


His Heart Hides Such Unimaginable Things

by thebeehive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, One Direction Imagines, One Direction Tours, Solo Artist Zayn, Tattoos, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeehive/pseuds/thebeehive
Summary: Liam read the Press Release and tried not to groan out loud:"One Direction announces the opening act of the North American leg of their 'Bring Back the Heat' Tour. This summer they are hitting the road with new material and a unique opening act: R&B artist ZAYN."Would Liam survive the next leg of their tour?





	1. Meetings and Management

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sky Full of Song by Florence and the Machine
> 
> Come talk to me on my new tumblr: [thebeehive13](https://thebeehive13.tumblr.com/)

“Ok,” Paul said, “After having 5SOS and Icona Pop open in the past, we wanted to take a different approach this year.”

Liam looked at the boys sprawled in varied states of awareness around the large oak conference table. No one ever told him that being in a boy band - let alone One Direction, the biggest boy band in the world since the halcyon days of N’Sync and Backstreet Boys - would mean so many meetings. But Liam was prepared. He had worn his nice black trousers, he even had a tie on. He had his iPad. He was taking notes, for God's sake.

The other boys did not approach meetings with Liam’s grim determination. He loved his band mates, he really did. He called them his brothers, unironically, and as Liam had sisters but no brothers, he felt that the combination of boundless love and exasperation that he felt for his sisters translated over to his band mates. There was more wrestling and bodily functions then he had been adequately prepared for, but the love was there. 

However. Meetings and the boys did not a professional environment always make.

Harry and Louis were seeing how long the fidget spinner on Harry's right shoulder was going to keep spinning before its inevitable fall. Who the fuck was still playing with fidget spinners? Louis was shaking with silent giggles as Harry slowly rotated his shoulder trying to get the spinner to pick back up speed. Niall was staring at the doughnuts across the table. Liam could almost read his mind; Niall was thinking how long would be polite to wait - until taking his fourth doughnut of the meeting. 

Liam sighed. “Ok, Paul, stop keeping us in suspense, yeah? What band will be it for the American leg?”

While Paul droned on Liam typed on his iPad:  
Summer Opener: North American leg of “Bring Back the Heat Tour.” 

Why was Paul being so dramatic? This meeting had gone on long enough and Liam was ready to go to the gym and eat an actual meal. Those frosted doughnuts on the table were looking pretty tempting, and Liam was NOT in the mood to break his diet. He needed to be in peak condition for the next part of their tour.

Liam was looking down and still typing when Paul spoke, “It’s not a band, it’s a single artist.”

“Ed Sheeran!” Niall said. That got a laugh, as Paul and Management chuckled. Niall smiled and reached across Paul for another doughnut. The tour manager shoved the box at Niall, and everyone chuckled again. Niall carefully grabbed another doughnut, mission accomplished.

Liam allowed a smile. As if Ed needed to open for anybody, but what a fun tour that would be. The shit they would get into….

Liam thought fondly of the last time Ed and him and the boys had gotten together - it had involved rounding up a herd of goats in Dublin, and then Liam was jerked back to the present. Paul said something, but that couldn't be right-

“What did you say Paul?” The iPad forgotten, Liam felt his stomach clench. Niall looked at him and smiled. Harry shrugged off the spinner; it fell to the table with a sharp clatter. He gave Liam a sympathetic look as Louis laughed. Management, with their blank, disproving faces, collectively twitched from where they were seated at the far end of the table, with Paul acting as a barrier between them and the band, swiveling back and forth to deliver the news.

“I SAID, Zayn. Zayn will be opening for you,” Paul shot Liam a look. And how was it fair that the other boys could goof off at will in a meeting, but Liam missed one word and received the disappointed parent routine. Paul continued talking, but Liam tuned him out.

Zayn. Zayn Malik. Up and coming R&B singer with the voice of an angel, emotional lyrics that made Liam’s heart ache, and a face and body so perfect that it made OTHER parts of Liam ache, in a not unpleasant way. Liam knew his weakness for good looking musicians was not a recent development, having spent his puberty idolizing Justin Timberlake for both his perfect falsetto and the way his hips moved, but Zayn was different. For one thing, while his star was rising, he was still relatively unknown outside the R&B world. Liam sometimes felt like HE alone had discovered Zayn, and wasn't quite sure he was willing to share his talent with the rest of the world. Which Liam realized didn't make sense. Zayn and him have never even met. 

“Liam can fill us in on Zayn,” Louis said faux innocently. “Liam is QUITE the Zayn expert lately. I think he’s watched the music video for Praise You at LEAST one hundred times?”

Liam tried not to blush. It’s probably been more than that. Not only was Zayn shirtless, with his many beautiful tattoos on display, but the video had long close-up shots of his face and doe eyes and delicate collar bones. It’s not that Liam thinks Zayn’s eyelashes are the eighth wonder of the world, but they SHOULD be. 

“I, I am familiar with his music,” Liam stuttered, “As I listen to all types of music and I love rap and R&B and we should all be listening to different genres to help with our songwriting and, AND Zayn is a perfect example of a great voice paired with smart lyrics and…” Liam ran out of steam and looked around the table to discover everyone giving him blank looks (Management) vaguely concerned looks (Paul) and barely concealed amusement (the boys). 

“Anyway,” Paul glared at the boys, “Back on topic. Zayn has a very different sound than One Direction, but his fan base surprisingly overlaps with yours, he's your age, and we think there will be some great opportunities to bring him on stage to join in and harmonize on some of the songs.”

Paul glanced over at Management, “Anything else?”

Management shook their heads collectively no, as if they were one hive mind, which Liam had long suspected they were. 

“Boys, any questions?”

“Yes, can I have the rest of the doughuts?” Niall said.

“Yes, if Zayn doesn’t have a tour bus he can share beds with Liam on our bus,” Louis said.

“That’s more of a suggestion than a question, really,” Niall said, as he struggled to close the lid on the pastry box.

“Is it too late to change the name of the tour from “Bring Back the Heat” to “Bring ON the Heat”?” Harry wondered.

“Meeting over!” Paul barked, as Niall grabbed the pink pastry box and ran out the door, Louis and Harry collected various fidget spinners from the table and floor and Management swept out of the room in a sea of silent disapproval and briefcases. Liam didn’t understand the briefcases. They never OPENED the briefcases. 

Liam didn't move, staring down at his iPad. He slowly typed in ZAYN, then looked up to see Paul frowning at him. Liam looked back down at the screen, focusing on the Z. He had a sudden urge to reach down and trace the Z on the screen. He did not.

“Liam. Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, of course not.”

“It’s perfectly natural to have a crush on someone famous,” Paul looked as uncomfortable as Liam felt having this conversation. “But you need to be professional, he’s going to be around you boys a lot. Although hopefully not like those summer boys were. I couldn’t tell who was a worse influence on who there…”

“Of course I’ll be professional!” Liam smoothed down his tie, to make his point. He WAS a professional, he came to meetings in a TIE, he took notes. He was part of a multi-million dollar juggernaut, and as passionate about music as he was, Liam was not naïve enough not to understand the business side of the band. 

“Just because I’m a fan doesn’t mean I can’t be professional. I’ve met all sorts of people since we got big, some loads more famous than Zayn, and I have been nothing but professional!”

Paul kindly ignored how Liam’s voice MAY have cracked and gotten high pitched towards the end of that, and Liam was grateful for small favors.

“Liam, we always count on you to keep the boys in check, we don’t need to worry about you too, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. His frustration was beginning to manifest physically into a headache. He REALLY needed to go workout and blow off some steam. “Can I go? Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can go,” Paul chuffed him gently on the shoulder as Liam quickly walked out of the conference room, thinking about how he was going to skip free weights today and go straight for a nice long bruising session with the punching bag. Yes, punching something repeatedly, just what he needed. He loved Paul, he did, and while he would always take the responsibility of keeping everyone in check seriously, it didn’t mean he didn’t resent the added pressure. Sometimes Liam wanted the weight of everything lifted off his shoulders. 

 

Two hours later Liam stepped out of a well-deserved, in his opinion, hot shower. He had gone hard in the gym, and his entire body felt loose, and, best of all, his headache was almost gone.

If he had sang the entire song of Last Time Tonight, reaching Zayn’s soaring high notes with help from the steam while he was soaping up, well - that was between him and the shower. 

And apparently his band mates. Liam walked out of the bathroom and into his hotel room to see Niall, Louis, and Harry, all crammed on the bed HE would be sleeping on later. Harry was in the middle, laptop resting on his long legs, while Niall and Louis squished close on either side. The boys looked up, identical smug grins on their faces, as the very song Liam had just been singing played out of the tinny speakers of the laptop. This time, instead of Liam’s amplified shower vocals, Zayn’s smooth, slightly smoky voice filled the room.

 

“And for the last time, last time  
Not the first time, first time  
You and me baby will hold each other  
Tight so tight  
All night for the last time, last time,  
Until the fire’s gone, everything will be alright,  
For the last time”

 

“Gotta say, boy DOES have a way with words,” Louie said. “Although you were getting pretty high up there just now, does he inspire you to really HIT those high notes?”

“And those bony shoulders are strangely appealing,” Harry slowly, always so slowly, said. Liam did not understand how he and Harry got along so well when they were literally on two different wave lengths when they conversed.

“I like his weird clothes,” Niall chirped.

“Shut it all,” Liam snapped. He walked over to his open suitcase and grabbed the first pair of sweats he could find. He shoved in to them and toweled at his short hair before turning around and sat on the edge of the bed by everyone’s feet. “We all have artists we're fans of, so let’s not make a big deal of it, yeah? When he gets here we are all going to act normal. Or, as normal as we can.”

“Liam,” Louie said, “Harry here is obsessed with Fleetwood Mac but Stevie Nicks face isn't his home screen on his phone, now is she?”

“Stop looking at my phone!” Liam isn’t going to deny that his absolute favorite picture of Zayn (this week) is indeed his home screen, but that doesn’t mean Louis should know that. Everyone knows phones are private. It’s just Liam couldn’t help it. The picture was from a photo shoot Zayn did for Nylon magazine that featured up and coming musicians. His normally dark hair was closely cropped and dyed a silvery grey, emphasizing his large dark eyes. His mouth was turned up, a faint smile on his lips, and he was dressed in a blue shirt, unbuttoned half way down his chest, showing his ink. But Liam loved the picture because Zayn was staring straight at the camera, those dark eyes so intense Liam could barely make eye contact. To a picture. On his phone. Of someone he’s never met. God, he sounded pathetic in his own head.

“That’s a non-denial if I’ve ever heard one,” Niall laughed. “Is Zayn really your home screen? You might want to change that before he joins the tour.”

“You have three weeks to change it,” Harry reasoned, “no rush.”

Liam buried his head in hands. “Just don’t embarrass me, boys, please. Please.”

“Us? Never!” Louie laughed. 

Liam groaned. Three more weeks until Zayn. He could do this. He was a grown man. What harm could a little crush be? He’ll meet Zayn, realize he's just an average person (who is admittedly above average in the looks department. And the voice department. Damnit, Liam cursed himself. He was his own worst enemy) and move on. 

“On the bright side, they say never meet your heroes,” Niall said, “maybe he’s a dick in real life, or just really boring.”

“Let’s hope so,” Liam muttered. “Let’s really hope so.”


	2. Let's Get Some Ice-Cream, Yeah?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support so far! I'm new to the fandom (Eight years later...) and am excited to dip my toes in.

Liam had never felt three weeks fly by so fast. The European leg of the “Bring Back the Heat” (or "Bring ON the Heat" as Harry had unofficially changed the name to) tour had wrapped up, leaving them with two weeks of vacation time. The boys scattered: Niall home to Ireland, Louis to Doncaster, Harry to Holmes Chapel, and Liam to Wolverhampton. 

Spending time with his Mum, Dad, and sisters was exactly what he needed to recharge, after long months on the road. But time had indeed flown by, and now Liam was faced with only two more days before he had to be in London to fly to America, start the American leg of the tour, and meet rising R&B performer Zayn. The same Zayn he’s had a massively embarrassing juvenile crush on for the past couple months. A crush that went beyond superficial attraction or admiration of a fellow performer to a steady fixation on who Zayn was as a person. Which, beyond Zayn’s performances, Liam could admit he barely knew - there had been only a handful of print features and just two short live interviews. (Liam was probably half the views on both videos). But that was all about to change, of that Liam was sure. Between Zayn’s face and talent and soon to be opening gig for One Direction, his star would rise in no time. 

Liam himself knew, had always known, that he was destined to be a performer. This was not an ego thing - Liam was not a cocky bastard, although he was self-aware. His family would not let him become a cocky bastard either; he knew he was not in danger of becoming a diva anytime soon. 

But being on stage and singing, jumping around, and interacting with the fans – Liam never felt at home anywhere in the world like the rushed elation he felt on stage. He knew on stage anything was possible and the normal laws of the universe did not apply. He also knew how fortunate he was. Not just for the fame and fortune One Direction had brought him, but that he had known as long as he could remember that this was all he ever wanted. He couldn’t fathom someone not knowing what they wanted most out of life, but he understood many people were not as lucky as himself. 

Liam didn’t really believe in destiny, but the way his life had turned out made him question his place in the universe. When he went for a long run he would stop for a drink of water and look at a tree, or a bird, or up at the sky, and would have the urge to laugh and cry over the sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

“Liam,” Ruth yelled through his door. His older sister then knocked.

Liam had been idly scrolling through Zayn’s Instagram. At this point he had every picture committed to memory, but he liked stopping on his favorite photos to pick up new details. He had been looking at a picture posted over a year ago. He couldn’t put a finger on why it was one of his favorites, but he found himself coming back to it time and again. The photo was in black and white, and Zayn’s profile was partially obscured by a cloud of smoke coming from his mouth. His fingers held a cigarette, and Liam wondered, not for the first time, if it was normal to be obsessed with the sharp angles and joints of someone’s thumb? 

“Come in,” Liam said, looking up from lounging in his bed. 

“Hey, Nicola and I were going to Little Dessert Shop, want to come?”

Liam didn’t want to move, but he knew in a month he would be missing his family something fierce, and he didn’t want to deny his sisters this brief time with him, either. “Sure,” he said, not moving yet.

Ruth sat down at the edge of his bed. “Whatcha looking at?”

Liam showed his screen. “Reading up on our new opening act. Zayn. He does R&B.”

Ruth leaned over and took his phone, studying the photo. “He’s cute.” She looked again, her finger scrolling down. “Reading up? So looking at old Instagram photos from over a year ago is reading up?” She laughed and then stopped. “And your home screen is already him?” 

Liam roughly grabbed his phone back. Shit. He should have taken Niall’s advice and changed his screen weeks ago. But he had two more days until the tour started. And Zayn wasn’t flying over from London with the boys, he was already in New York and would be there for the boys first show at Madison Square Garden.

“I take it back, he’s more than cute, he’s kind of stunning,” Ruth laughed. Then she smiled down at Liam, “Got a crush, bro?”

“He’s just really talented. His voice…” Liam trailed off. He knew how he got once he got started on topics that fascinate him, and lately, nothing has fascinated him like Zayn.

Ruth shook her head and smiled again. “Just be careful. I know how are you are. All or nothing.”

Liam didn't meet her eyes. “I don’t know why everyone is worried. It’s just a harmless crush.” The more he said it, the less he believed it.

“Liam,” his sister shook her head. “Like I said, all or nothing. You don’t do anything half way. Is he single?”

Liam sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him really, if he even has a preference. But he always makes a point to support LGBT rights and posts about it…” 

“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream. Two more days stuck with us and then you have all the time in the world to get to know this Zayn,” Ruth smacked his arm, and Liam heaved himself out of bed, secretly pleased his sister didn’t tease him like she normally would. He would miss his family in the coming months.

 

In the blink of an eye, Liam found himself in New York. The boys were reunited, and everything picked back up like it always did. Harry and Louis were glued at the hip, Niall ate everything in sight, and all of them eagerly traded new lyrics and snippets of melody they had been hoarding the last several weeks apart.

Liam surveyed the empty seats of Madison Square Garden while the band ran through sound check. This was not the first time One Direction played the Garden. The first time the boys had come out on stage to thousands of screaming fans was one of those crystalline memories that Liam knew he would hold on to for the rest of his life. Even though they were old hats at the Garden by this point, a thrill ran through Liam when he stepped out on stage, raising the hair on his arms. Some stages were just special. 

Sound check was wrapping up when Liam first noticed the figure just off stage left. When the boys had arrived for sound check, Zayn had already finished and was nowhere in sight. Liam had schooled his disappointment, knowing he would probably meet Zayn later that night when the show started.

Now, Liam saw the lean figure wearing torn black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt leaning against a pillar off stage. Zayn. His hair was back to his natural dark luster, no dye in sight, and fluffed up on top of his head in a thick ridge while the sides were shaved. His stubble stood out against his sharp cheekbones.

Liam took a breath and felt his stomach jump; he reflexively clenched his fist not holding the microphone. He’s just like you, Liam reminded himself. Just a normal - exceptionally attractive - guy who loves to sing. Easy enough. Liam steeled his nerves. As if an invisible thread appeared, he walked towards Zayn before he even realized he was moving. Zayn continued to lean against the pillar until Liam was only a couple meters in front of him; he languidly pushed his shoulder off the cement until the two of them were an arm’s length apart. Liam felt like he was having an out of body experience for a minute. All of the buildup, the anticipation, and here was a dark haired man, of height with him but more slender, and they would finally meet.

Liam realized with a sudden cringe that he didn’t know what to say. 

So Liam didn't say anything. And Zayn also stood silent, watching Liam with dark eyes. 

Liam stood there for another second, taking in all of Zayn, before he remembered that he was a card carrying, functional member of society. 

“Hi, I’m Liam,” Liam said. Then his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he desperately needed a glass of water.

“Zayn,” Zayn said, reaching out a hand. Liam shook it, trying not to stare at the cursive “love” tattoo inked on Zayn’s knuckles, his various chunky rings, and that sharp angle of his thumb that Liam had obsessed over in photos. Zayn’s hand was cool to the touch, despite the summer heat, and a bit dry. His eyes up close were just as intimidating as the photo on Liam’s home screen (which he had remembered to change BEFORE the plane had landed in New York) but unlike the discomfort he felt when he looked at that photo, Liam found he couldn't look anywhere but right into Zayn’s caramel eyes.

“Nice to meet you.” Liam realized that Zayn was speaking and had withdrawn his hand. Zayn steadily met his gaze, and slowly blinked. 

“Same. We can’t wait to see you perform, we're such big fans.” Liam managed to get out.

Zayn raised one elegant eyebrow. “One Direction? Big fans of my music? I find that hard to believe.”

Liam was taken aback by the cool indifference in Zayn’s expression and voice. “Yes, yes. We listen to all types of music, you know, not just what we sing. I actually love rap and hip hop myself, you see, and -"

“Sorry, got to take this, late-ah, Leeyum,” Zayn softly stretched out Liam’s name and Liam stood there, slightly stunned as Zayn walked away, a sprite in all black, talking into a phone Liam didn’t even see him pull out. 

A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Niall stood beside him. “Heroes mate. Don’t ever meet them.”

“I’m sure it was an important call… wait did you see all that?”

Louis and Harry appeared on Liam’s other side. 

“That crash and burn?” Louie scoffed. “Of course we witnessed that.”

“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s get you some ice-cream.”

“I don’t even like ice-cream that much, I don’t know why everyone is constantly trying to get me to eat ice-cream as if that will cheer me up,” Liam said. Honestly, it’s like everyone thinks he’s a small child sometimes.

"So you DO need cheering up. We have an a couple hours, let’s go.” Harry turned and the other boys fell in line, walking the byzantine hallways of the Garden. While every stage was special, Liam thought that every back stage in an arena was depressingly the same. They could be in any city, in any country, back here between beige hallways. The thought should be comforting, that no matter where one was on the planet some things will be the same everywhere, but today the thought just made Liam feel melancholy. 

Security appeared at one point to escort the boys, and then the entire lot of them walked out the back area where all the trucks were parked, the sunshine glaring off black chrome.

Liam spotted Zayn in the shadow of a large truck, smoking a cigarette and still talking into his phone. Liam wasn't sure if the image reminded him of the black and white photo of Zayn smoking, but he couldn't look away. Zayn glanced up, saw the boys and their entourage, and then turned his back on them, continuing to smoke while facing the truck.

“Yeah, I guess I could go for some ice-cream,” said Liam, suddenly feeling less excited about the Garden show. Harry nudged him in the shoulder, and Liam gave a nod. At least the boys were together again.

 

Hours later Liam was back on stage. His temporary spiral after that initial encounter with Zayn was not forgotten, but was pushed to the back of his mind to make way for the exhilaration of singing his heart out in front of thousands of fan besides boys he called his brothers. 

Niall played guitar while Harry danced his strange snake charmer dance, and Louis teased everyone and smiled non-stop. The crowd was beautiful, and as far as the eye could see were phones and cameras, creating a field of golden light against the darkness of the crowd. Liam felt lighter than he had in weeks. He met Zayn and it didn’t go great, but it was over now, and that anticipatory tension was gone.

He wanted to watch Zayn perform, was dying to hear him sing live, but the boys had all types of fan meets and an interview and then warm up and there was no time to sneak in a song or two. Liam forgot that kicking off the American leg always involved meeting a ton of people and promotion and media and chaos. He was determined to see Zayn though. One Direction played the Garden two more nights, and then headed to Chicago. If Liam couldn't watch Zayn in New York, then he would watch him in Chicago. 

But if Liam couldn't watch Zayn, he realized the other man didn't have that disadvantage. Half way through their set list and halfway through their new song “Play it Again,” - an upbeat song that sped up through the bridge - Liam spied a now familiar figure off stage left again, leaning against the same pillar he had favored at sound check. 

Zayn wore the same torn black skinny jeans, now topped with an olive green sweater. Liam wondered how the long sleeves, pushed half way up Zayn’s slender but muscled forearms, didn’t cause him to sweat all over the place. Of course, Zayn wasn’t running around the stage like him and the boys, but the stage lights were hot like burning. 

Liam wore a blank tank top and jeans, and the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat. He felt self-conscious. Zayn, calm and cool and slender, observed him while Liam felt like a large, clumsy, and sweaty beast mucking about stage. And Zayn seemed to be staring right at him. 

Liam shook his head. He was being paranoid. He turned back towards Zayn to see him watching Harry and Louis wrestle over a stuffed toy that had been thrown up on stage. Halfway through the show the stage looked like a literal minefield of bras and t-shirts and random junk. One had to pick through a lot of trash on stage to find any treasure. 

Liam looked back again at Zayn. He was singing his solo now, and Zayn watched him. Liam turned back towards the crowd and focused on the fans and the signs and the lights. Madison FUCKING Square Garden, he thought. He needed to live in this moment. He finished his solo and ran down the long catwalk in the middle of the stage that bisected the crowd, running towards the lights and the raised hands. He looked at Harry, Louis, and Niall and felt his chest swell. He held his microphone toward the crowd as they joined in the chorus,

“And we said Play it Again  
Play it Again  
We come to the end of the line, we part as friends  
And in the days ahead we know all will change  
But tonight, tonight We’ll keep on as we were,  
You said, Play it Again”

The next time he thought about Zayn he looked down stage left. A lone figure in black was nowhere to be seen.


	3. New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to follow along!
> 
> In this world Harry and Taylor Swift never “dated.” Also, One Direction’s songs are a mix of their actual songs and new songs. Same with Zayn's songs.

Liam slowly woke up, consciousness filtering in. His eyes remained closed. The first thought in his sleep muddled brain – what time was it? The second thought – tomorrow was Madison Fucking Square Garden for the third and final time on the tour. 

He groaned and stretched; it felt like every vertebrae in his back cracked- it was kind of gross but satisfying. Tea. Liam needed tea. And a ginger shot. And a long session in the gym. 

His hotel room was big and bereft of company, save for Liam himself. While he loved the privacy and quiet, part of him missed the early days of shared hotel rooms; the constant sleep overs where he and Niall played guitar together, Louis would order late night pizzas, and Harry would choreograph strange dance routines to even stranger songs.

But, Liam reflected, having his own bathroom and ability to get away from everything was nice.

All the boys were on the same floor. Zayn was also supposedly somewhere in the hotel, but Liam had yet to run into him.

Night two of playing the Garden was just as hectic as night one. This time the pre-show routine was filled with celebrities stopping by to say hello before the boys warmed up. Once again, Liam missed Zayn’s opening act. But he could hardly think of Zayn when Taylor Swift and Shawn Mendes dropped by backstage before the show started.

Liam loved Shawn, he respected someone that started off so young, and was so talented and remained grounded. The rest of the boys loved him, too, and they promised to meet up again when the band would be in California and Shawn would be in LA at the same time; Louis insisted they needed to have a songwriting session together.

The show itself had gone smashing, just as exhilarating as the first - the sold out crowd sang along to every song, from new material to old favorites. Ending the show with Best Song Ever and a blast of multi-colored confetti, Liam had passed out afterwards exhausted but satisfied, certain this tour was their best one yet.

Liam yawned and forced himself to get out of bed. After having two shows back to back it would be a relief to have the day off before the final show in NYC tomorrow and then the subsequent drive to Chicago. Liam passed the morning; he ordered an omelette from room service, drank tea, and replied to fans on Twitter and Instagram. 

Liam didn’t always enjoy doing a deep dive into his tags, as there were some sick people out there, or just plain old boundary-pushers. But the loyal fans who gave nothing but love and support were everything, and never failed to lift Liam up. No matter how many haters, how many people booed them at an awards show for being a “boy band," there were people out there who loved the boys and their music. And the booing had calmed down in recent years, thank god, Liam thought.

After his lazy morning, Liam was ready for the gym. The hotel they were staying in had a nice facility, and it was a Friday mid-morning, so there was barely anyone in there. Liam was supposed to take security with him everywhere in New York, but he was left alone in the gym. After a solid session he headed back up to his floor. Lost in thought about what he would order for lunch, Liam didn’t notice a figure in all black trying to get on to the lift (elevator, Liam reminded himself, when in Rome…) as he was trying to get out to his floor.

“Ooff” the figure made a muffled noise against Liam’s shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam said, his ingrained politeness taking over. Internally, he was annoyed – the cardinal RULE of elevator etiquette was to wait for everybody to get out BEFORE those waiting went in. 

It was Zayn. He had backed away but was still standing so close that Liam could smell his cologne (sandalwood?) and see his individual eyelashes. (Fucking ridiculous was what those things were. They cast shadows on his cheeks, for Christ’s sake). 

“You know, the rule of lifts – elevators - says to wait for everyone to get off before getting on,” Liam said; he was then embarrassed when Zayn just raised an eyebrow at him. This was becoming a routine with them.

“You just going to ride this all day?” Zayn said as the doors slid close.

Liam felt his face heat as Zayn hit the button for the lobby. Zayn’s leather jacket crinkled as he turned back to face Liam. 

Liam was once again faced with a Zayn who was all bemused slender cool, while Liam was a freshly sweaty oaf. This must be what it felt like to be Shrek, ugh, he thought. He could feel the sweat on his back, his workout shirt clung to his shoulder blades, and he felt clammy all over.

The gap between how he imagined his interactions with Zayn going and how they were playing out was ever widening. He really hoped Zayn couldn’t smell him in the small enclosed space. Liam decided he may as well go for broke at this point.

“What are you up to today?” Liam asked.

“It’s our day off, Leeyum,” Zayn said slowly, like Liam didn’t know. Liam felt irritated, but he also felt that familiar clench in his stomach when Zayn stretched out his name, his Bradford accent wrapping around the syllables. And, Liam thought, Zayn couldn't know that Liam knew his home town, because that would be weird, right? Or is that common knowledge? Do enough people HAVE common knowledge on Zayn to make that common? Liam was spiraling again. He looked at Zayn’s bony knees, sticking through the holes in his jeans, and rallied his nerves.

“I know, I know a proper day off. Are you doing anything fun? Going out in the city, meeting up with any friends?”

Zayn looked at Liam for a long moment, then licked his lips quickly. “Yeah, I’m going out in the city. There’s some shops on the Lower East Side I want to check out.”

“Oh, cool,” Liam said lamely. He thought hard. “If you need some company, I’d love to check it out, I heard that neighborhood is fun.”

The moment he said it, he wanted to take it back. Zayn didn’t know him, and Liam wanted to tag along as if they were friends? Also, Zayn probably had people he was going with, either from his team or friends. Zayn seemed like he would know people. And not necessarily the same people Liam would know.

Zayn gave him another long look with another raised eyebrow. He seemed to be sizing Liam up. Then he looked Liam up and down. Liam felt himself blush, the type of full body blush that he couldn’t hide. Before he could open a hole in the floor and free fall down the elevator shaft, Zayn shrugged.

“Yeah, you can come. Might want to shower first.”

“Of course, yeah, I’ll be real quick, yeah, just going to run back up and shower,” Liam said as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to the lobby. 

“I’ll be here, don’t take too long,” Zayn said, as he gestured to a row of plush chairs in the corner and ambled over, pulling out a pair of earbuds. Liam watched him curl into a seat as the doors shut. 

Liam stood there for a moment, nonplussed. Then he shook himself. Get it together Payno, it’s go time, he ordered. 

Liam showered and dressed in record time. It was a good thing that he was short on time, because every time he hesitated – did he really want to wear THAT shirt with those jeans? – he pictured Zayn, curled up in a chair listening to music while patiently waiting for Liam, someone he barely knew, and that caused a chain reaction of blind panic and subsequent deep breaths while Liam tore apart his suitcase and quickly combed his – thankfully very short – hair, which would dry in no time.

He settled on jeans and a white t-shirt. It was summer in NYC and it was sweltering; Liam didn’t know how Zayn would survive with that black leather jacket over his ever present black skinny jeans. Liam grabbed a black snapback and raced out of his room. The moment the doors of the elevator opened to the lobby Liam released a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

Part of him, the insidious part of his brain that whispered that it didn’t matter if he was in a best-selling band that toured the world, not everybody liked him – that part had worried that Zayn would be gone by the time Liam made it down, or that he would have realized he didn’t owe Liam anything, least of all his time, and he would have walked off into the bustling city streets, never to be seen again.

But Zayn was where Liam had left him, and Liam was relieved. Now that this was actually happening, Liam felt that same exhilarated anticipation that he experienced when he was rising up with the boys to burst out on the stage at the start of the show. 

Zayn saw Liam approach and uncurled from the chair he had sunk into, pulling out his earbuds. He gave Liam an appraising look and seemed to find him passable; he gave Liam a small nod and led him to the underground parking garage.

“Are we taking a car?” Liam wondered.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to, but if you’re with me I thought it would, like, be safer to have the car take us to the neighborhood and drop us off,” Zayn said, as he walked ahead of Liam. Liam noted how Zayn walked like all his joints were loose and needed tightening. It was awkward but kind of endearing. Liam scolded himself – the point was to get to KNOW Zayn, the man behind the voice and the face. And here was his golden opportunity. 

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Thank you, sorry for having you change up your plans,” Liam said, touched by Zayn’s thoughtfulness.

“Yeah, no worries,” Zayn said, his arm coming up to scratch the back of his head. The car was waiting, Liam didn’t recognize the driver, but he implicitly trusted Zayn, even though even HE knew that trust was baseless, and followed Zayn into the backseat. The car pulled out of the dark underground garage and into the busy streets, with the skyscrapers - that never failed to impress Liam, no matter how many times he had seen them- towering above the car. 

Zayn was quiet during the drive. Liam sat there until he couldn’t take it (he lasted all of a couple minutes) before he asked, “Is this your first time in New York?”

“No, third,” Zayn shifted in his seat, turning from the window to Liam and focusing those intense eyes on Liam’s face. Liam was more relaxed, getting used to being in Zayn’s presence for more than a minute at a time, but the clench in his stomach was still there, as well as an ever present tension that he couldn’t describe. Liam mirrored Zayn and shifted as well, so they were both facing towards each other. Zayn hesitated, before speaking again.

“I like New York. The vibe is like London, but like, at the same time very different,” Zayn said. 

“I know what you mean. Something is always happening, or could happen, around every corner,” Liam said. “And every time I come here, it’s never the same, it’s always changing.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, and the car was quiet again.

“What were you listening to?” Liam asked. Zayn tilted his head. “I mean,” Liam gestured to his ears, “while you were waiting for me?”

“Oh, the new Kayne album,” Zayn said. He wrinkled his nose and Liam cataloged the expression as one of his new favorites of Zayns. “I wanted to like it, but…”

“I know what you mean. It’s like he’s trying so hard not to be commercial that he made something that’s hard to listen to,” Liam said.

Zayn nodded. “Except for Sorry, that’s a banger.”

“Yes! I put that on my gym playlist,” Liam said. 

Zayn smirked, “You really like going to the gym, yeah?” He gave Liam another slow up and down look. 

Liam tried not to blush again, but the harder he tried the warmer he felt. His circulation had to be excellent with how often Zayn was making his blood flow. And THAT line of thought needed to be derailed immediately. At least this time he wasn’t sweaty.

“Yes, I like working out, the gym keeps me centered,” Liam gets out. “Do you work out?”

Zayn smirked again. “When I have to. But I box.”

“Really?” Liam said.

“You sound surprised?” Zayn said. His eyebrow started to come up again, but his mouth turned flat. This must be his challenging look, Liam thought.

“Not surprised, just trying to picture you boxing. And I just see you boxing in a leather jacket with a cigarette in your mouth, looking very unimpressed by your opponent,” Liam said, smiling.

At that Zayn let out a small laugh. His eyes crinkled up and his head tilted up. Liam felt dizzy and counted it as a victory. His goal for the rest of the afternoon was to make Zayn laugh again.


	4. A New York State of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be longer than anticipated, which is hopefully not a bad thing.  
> Thank you so much for continuing to follow along!

The driver pulled up to a seemingly random stretch of street in the Lower East Side neighborhood, and Liam climbed out of the car. Zayn talked to the driver for a moment, and Liam looked around. He had spent a fair amount of time in New York, but never this particular neighborhood. The street they were on had an eclectic variety of stores; Liam could see all types of restaurants with food from every corner of the globe, sandwiched between clothing stores, music shops and an assortment of thrift and vintage stores that seemed very heavy on army surplus jackets, if the display windows were anything to go by.

“Come on,” Zayn said, walking down the sidewalk as the car pulled away. “Dave will be back at five to pick us up.”

“Dave?”

“The driver.” Zayn shot Liam a look.

“Oh, of course, yeah,” Liam said, taking several long strides to catch up with Zayn, who was walking into a nearby music store with purpose. 

Once inside Liam breathed in the smell of used vinyl. It was very distinct smell, he thought, that all used record shops seemed to carry. The shop had row after row of not just vinyl but CDs, and Liam even saw shelves with cassettes.

Zayn immediately started flipping through shelves of records; Liam, not wanting to crowd him, headed over to another row and checked out the selection of 90’s rap CDs. He smiled as he flipped through the dusty discs, fingers running over cracked cases. For Liam, certain albums and artists brought back great memories: he remembered turning up Nelly’s Ride Wit It in his bedroom and yelling along; he found California Lovin’, the Biggie and Tupac jam that he adored and played countless times until his mom or sisters would pound on his door yelling to turn it down, and he looked fondly at Kanye’s The College Dropout album; he remembered playing the entire CD from start to finish, and became an instant Kanye fan from that moment forward.

Liam was so immersed in musical nostalgia he didn’t hear Zayn behind him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He only jumped a little, and Zayn smirked at him as he lifted his arm to show Liam the records he'd picked out.

“Leeyum, check this out,” Zayn said. Liam looked at the one on top, someone named Claudia Lennear. 

“Who’s that?”

“She was a back up singer for Tina Turner, and supposedly the inspiration behind Brown Sugar,” Zayn said, more animated than Liam had seen him so far. His eyes were shining and he seemed to vibrate minutely.

“Brown Sugar? Like, Brown Sugar, how come you taste so good?”

Zayn smiled. “Just like a young girl should. Exactly. I’ve been looking for this on vinyl for a while. I want to do a version of her What’d I Do Wrong, but like, a more modern, smooth R&B version.”

“You should, do a cover, if you want to, I mean, why not?”

“No, I mean, like, I want to do one on tour.”

“So…why don’t you?”

Zayn stopped vibrating and he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.

“I don’t know if management would approve.”

“Oh.” Liam understood all about Management. He didn’t need Zayn to explain further. But he didn’t think something like performing a song, at least once, would do serious damage. Liam knew how to toe the party line when it came to Management. He knew how he was perceived, his role in the band as the sensible one had been written into the stars long before One Direction were huge, but Liam knew how far he could push back sometimes, too.

“Look, sometimes it really is easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, you know? I say, practice it with the band, slip it in and perform it during your set as a surprise and see how it goes, yeah? And if they say anything about how it’s against your brand, just spew some bullshit about trying to be your authentic self and how you connect to the song. They might give you more leeway than you think.”

“Hmmm,” Zayn looked at Liam for a moment, blinking slowly, eyelashes dipping. Liam wished he knew what Zayn was thinking and that he wasn’t so hard to read. He was beginning to think Zayn wasn’t nearly as closed off as he pretended to be, otherwise he wouldn’t have invited Liam along to explore this corner of the city in the first place; but, he still seemed like the type that would take a while to get through the walls he had obviously constructed. 

“You’re not as naïve as I thought you would be,” Zayn said finally.

Liam was taken aback. “Why would I be naïve?”

“Not naïve to the world around you, necessarily, but naïve to what people like Management orchestrate,” Zayn said.

“Orchestrate?” Liam wondered. “Now that sounds sinister And don’t forget I’ve been doing this awhile. I wouldn’t have survived this long if I didn’t know a few tricks.”

Zayn’s expression darkened. “Well, sinister they may be, but you’re not wrong, maybe it would be easier to just do it..” He trailed off and looked at Liam, and then quickly looked around the store as if forgetting where he was. “Forget I said anything, I was just talking out loud. What are you buying?”

Liam bought Illmatic by NAS (which got an approving nod by Zayn, which made Liam feel like he passed a test he didn’t know he was taking) and Whiskeytown by Ryan Adams, the latter on recommendation from Harry and the former being an old favorite. He didn’t own a CD player, but his tour bus had one. 

Zayn bought the Lennear album, as well as Life After Death by Biggie and Power, Corruption, & Lies by New Order, both also on vinyl. 

“Those flowers are beautiful, I really like the cover art,” Liam said, pointing to the New Order album as the cashier bagged it up.

“It’s a reproduction of French painting, called Basket of Roses,” Zayn said, opening his wallet to give the cashier his card.

“Wow,” Liam said, honestly impressed. “You have a great memory.”

Zayn laughed, eyes crinkling up, and Liam once again felt the singular thrill of seeing Zayn laugh up close. 

“I wish, I was just looked it up on Wikipedia when I found the album just now, I remembered it was based on a painting and there was a story behind it but I couldn’t think of the details. It’s actually funny- some Trust refused to let the band use the image of the painting for the cover art of the album, but when they asked who owned the painting so they could get permission, it turned out the Trust actually belonged to the people of Britain. So someone said, that’s what the people would want, and they let them use it.”

“The power of the people,” Liam smiled. “Do you actually have a record player to play those on?” 

“Yeah, on my bus. Do you not have one?” Zayn said.

“No, but my parents did. They look cool, they just take up a lot of space.”

“But the sound,” Zayn said. “You have to hear a difference; vinyl is so much warmer, than digital. I don’t know how, it just is.”

“Maybe,” Liam said, he honestly couldn’t tell a difference. It was Liam’s turn to pay; as he stepped forward the cashier, a guy that looked to be in his early 20s, squinted at him, but didn’t say anything. Liam got that a lot, but he hoped the cashier would just play it cool, or maybe think he looked familiar but would be unable to place him. Liam didn’t want his afternoon to be interrupted by anyone asking for his photo or hounding him to sign anything, which, normally he didn’t mind, but he wanted to focus on Zayn today, without any distractions. 

“Look, you’ll have to come over and take a listen, yeah? I’m telling you, you will hear it.”

Did Zayn just invite Liam on to his tour bus? Liam thought about being in Zayn’s personal space. Where he slept and where he relaxed and listened to music and who knows what else he did. “Uh, sure, yeah, I’d like to be able to hear the difference in sound.” 

Liam finished paying and they walked back out in to the New York heat.

“Aren’t you hot?” Liam said as he looked at Zayn, who hadn’t removed his leather jacket despite the warm temperature.

“Nah, not yet. Besides, I usually run cold. I’m sure I’ll be hot after we walk around. Do you like pierogi?”

“Yes,” Liam suddenly realized he was starving. He was going to grab lunch after the gym and then ended up, on this day of miracles, tagging along with Zayn instead. He was not going to complain, but he was hungry. “Are they close by? I’m starving.”

“Just a couple of blocks over, I think,” Zayn pulled out his phone, and looked up an address. “Ok, just a couple blocks up and then a right. This place is supposed to be famous for their pierogi.”

They walked up the city blocks, Liam walked not quite beside Zayn, but just behind him. The sidewalks were narrow, and Liam realized even though they weren’t talking, just walking beside Zayn felt nice. He wasn’t sure if it was the city itself, New York with its almost magic and constant hum of energy in the air, or if it was the summer heat, but he felt relaxed and happy. He was on tour, in one of his favorite cities and walking the streets with one of his favorite artists.

Liam thought, not for the first time, that the surrealness of his life was almost too much to process and absorb all at once. Just like on stage at the Garden, Liam thought, he needed to live in THIS fucking moment. Walking the city streets with Zayn. He giggled.

Zayn turned towards him as he continued to walk. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Life. Everything really.”

Instead of looking at Liam like he was crazy, Zayn faintly smiled and shook his head, then turned and continued walking, until they stopped in front of a small restaurant, the sign proclaiming Veselka.

It may have been Liam’s voracious appetite, but the pierogi WERE good. They sat at a small table while they ate, feet bumping up against each other in the tight space. The place was practically empty at mid-afternoon, for which Liam was grateful. 

Liam watched Zayn eat and thought how strange that he felt simultaneously relaxed and tense in the other man’s presence. He felt comfortable, like he could talk to Zayn about anything, which was disconcerting considering they only just met. But the tension, the knot in his stomach and the feeling that left Liam slightly breathless never really went away, and seemed to only increase when he caught a glimpse of Zayn’s tattooed collar bone when he leaned forward to snatch a napkin. 

“Do you hear that?” Zayn said, tilting his head up. 

“The music? Barely,” Liam said.

“As we go, to the end of the road…” Zayn softly sang, so quietly Liam could barely here him.

“Ah, Boyz II Men,” Liam laughed. “A classic, you know. We should really try and do a version with the boys, it would come out smashing, I think. Or a disaster, who knows.”

“A smashing disaster,” Zayn said, smiling back at Liam. They held each others gaze for a moment, and then Zayn looked back down at his pierogi and Liam smiled to himself, imagining the boys harmonizing and arguing over solos if they were to do a Boyz II Men song.

Liam left stuffed, ready for the next destination. Zayn walked in the opposite direction of where they had come from the record store.

“So far you are two for two,” Liam teased. “What’s next?”

Zayn looked sideways at Liam. He paused. “A comic book store.” His mouth went flat and his eyebrow went up and Liam recognized his challenge face, as if he was daring Liam to make fun of him. Liam wanted to laugh; Zayn had no idea what a big nerd he was, and it was somehow reassuring that Zayn “too cool to take off his leather jacket in the sweltering heat” Malik was a comic nerd as well.

“Cool,” Liam grinned. 

Zayn nodded, apparently appeased, and they continued on. 

By the time they reached the comic store Liam was getting really hot, and Zayn actually took off his jacket. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, and Liam tried not to stare at all his tattoos. The ink also made him want to get another tattoo himself; he had been thinking about what to get next for a while, but the band had been so busy with the tour he'd put it off.

The comic book store was air conditioned, and Liam felt the relief the moment they walked in. The first thing he saw was a life-size cardboard cutout of Batman; he immediately walked over to take a selfie next to it. Zayn watched as Liam took several pictures and laughed. 

“How dare you, Batman is my spirit animal,” Liam scoffed. 

Zayn rolled his eyes. "Of course he is."

Like the record store, Liam did his own thing while Zayn perused elsewhere, then Zayn would walk over and they would compare what they had picked out and heatedly discuss which comic character was stronger and who would win in a fight. Liam forgot all about the time, and enjoyed watching Zayn get worked up on his passionate defense of the Hulk winning a fight with Thor, when Zayn pulled out his phone. "Dave's almost here," he said. "Oh," Liam was disappointed. He didn't want the day to end. By the time they paid, Dave was waiting outside and they got in the car and headed back to the hotel. 

Liam could not believe the success of the afternoon. He had not been recognized, or if he had, he had been left alone all day, and he had a genuinely good time with Zayn. His luck was bound to run out soon. He wasn’t sure if he should thank the universe or the inherent magic of New York City, but as he turned to look at Zayn sitting next to him in the back seat - watching as he huffed and ran a hand through his dark hair, which had started falling across his face – Liam did not take one moment for granted.


	5. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a rainy, windy Saturday where I'm at. Have another chapter! And thank you as always for the comments, kudos, and support. :)

Liam sat on his bed in the tour bus, headphones on, trying to drown out the noise around him.

The boys were up to their usual antics as the bus smoothly sped through the night. Except for the tiniest swaying of movement, Liam could forget he was going 70 miles per hour down a dark highway through the middle of America. 

Chicago was in their sights and New York was in their rear view mirror. Liam was sad to leave one of his favorite cities in the world, but he looked forward to Chicago for various reasons. Watching Zayn perform was at the top of his list, as the final night at the Garden had again left no time before warm up to sneak away to catch some of his set. 

“Liam,” Niall pulled out one of his earbuds and was practically yelling in his ear.

“WHAT?” Liam growled. He was listening to ‘Age of Consent’ by New Order, his curiosity piqued by Zayn’s vinyl purchases several days ago. He downloaded some of the music he and Zayn had talked about and looked at, and was trying to be open minded about everything. He didn’t think New Order was really for him, but he was enjoying the beat of the ‘Consent’ song and wanted to have subject matter lined up for future conversations with Zayn. Well, the future conversations he hoped to have with him.

“Liam we HAVE to visit The Bean. We HAVE to,” Niall said, waving his phone, with a picture of the Chicago landmark pulled up on the screen, in front of Liam’s face.

Liam sighed, and sat up, giving up on his Zayn music education for the moment. “Why do you have to be such a tourist Niall, honestly? We’ve been to Chicago before.”

“Yeah, yeah, but not The Bean,” Niall said.

“I think,” Harry drawled, from where he and Louis were crammed together on the bottom bunk across from Liam, heads pressed together while they watched something on an iPad screen, “we should do The Bean.”

“Yeah Liam, everyone wants to do The Bean,” Louis snickered. “You’re outnumbered. Democracy and all that. Do as the natives do.”

“Actually,” Harry said, “America is technically a representative democracy, while others argue it is a democratic republic, what with the electoral collage and –“

“Ugh, shut it Haz,” Niall said, not unkindly. “And Liam we ARE going to The Bean, together. As a band.”

And Liam couldn’t argue with that. “Fine, fine. We should invite Zayn to come to, he would probably like it.”

“Harold, make sure to put Liam down for a plus one for The Bean, good sir,” Louis mocked in a, frankly poor attempt, Liam thought, of a posh accent.

“Did you know it’s real name is Cloud Gate?” Niall said, as Liam threw the nearest available pillow at Louis' head. It caught both him and Harry in the face, as their faces were literally touching. Liam did not feel bad.

“Are we slowing down?” Liam asked, feeling the bus slow as it turned into a large trucking gas station. 

“Yeah, I asked to stop for food, and they wanted to fuel up and have the drivers stretch out,” Niall said. 

A minute later the boys tumbled out of the bus. Liam bent over to tie a shoelace, and when he straightened up he saw Zayn headed towards him from his own, smaller bus.

“Hey,” Liam said. He had bonded with Zayn, the other day in the Lower East Side. Or, at least, it felt that way. Or, ok, he WANTED it to be that way. He hadn’t seen much of him since that day, with the last day of Garden madness the next day, and then the drive through the night several hours after the concert ended. Zayn looked like he had been sleeping, as the boys should have been, Liam ruefully thought. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his eyes squinted through the bright lights of the gas station, while the fuzzy, oversized black sweater he wore looked like it had been pulled from a laundry pile. He looked, Liam thought, like an adorable ruffled hedgehog, but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

“Hey,” Zayn mumbled back. He gestured towards the store the other boys had already walked into. “Getting snacks?”

The tour buses were well outfitted with food and drinks, but it was nice to get out of the bus, and Liam always enjoyed the weird road food America had to offer. It was just so big, and they had to drive so much between cities, that trying gas station junk food was one of the ways the boys liked to entertain themselves.

“Yeah, come on, we always like to see what weird shit we can pick up,” Liam said. He started walking, and Zayn followed, walking that loose-limbed stride that Liam enjoyed watching.

Inside, the other boys walked up and down the aisles. Well, Niall was practically ran up and down the aisles yelling random words, “Snowball! Jims! Combos!”

Liam shook his head.

“Is he always like that?” Zayn asked.

“His energy knows no bounds,” Liam said, shaking his head fondly.

Niall ran over and skidded to a stop in front of Zayn. “You missed it, they were playing our song right before you came in!”

Liam looked at Zayn, confused, as Niall turned on one foot and dashed back down the aisle yelling “Pringles!” over and over, in his most Irish of accents. “What song?”

“Oh,” Zayn laughed. “The Titanic song, ‘My Heart Will Go On'.”

Liam watched as Zayn walked over to the bottled Frappacino section, looking deep in thought as he stared into the fridge like it held all the answers to the questions of the universe. Liam felt like he had missed something. Zayn hadn’t made it to their pre-Garden press conference, as he’d been stuck in traffic returning from a photo shoot. As far as Liam knew, the boys had barely met him. How did Niall and Zayn have in-jokes already? Liam tried not to feel jealous, and promptly failed. He tried to distract himself with chex mix, which usually worked, but he just felt irritated.

The boys paid for their various junk food, used the bathrooms, as they tried to avoid the cramped bus bathroom unless the situation became dire, then headed back to the buses.

Liam looked around as they walked through the lot; it looked like the buses were almost done fueling up. He watched Zayn walk onto the boys' bus, instead of his own, and his stomach jumped.  
Niall walked right ahead of him, so Liam grabbed his arm before he could climb up the bus stairs. He needed answers. 

“Niall,” Liam whispered furiously. “Why is Zayn getting on our bus? Why do you guys have a song together? I thought I was the only one who’s spent any time with him?”

“Keep it down, Liam,” Niall shook off his arm. “Your whisper is like a whisper scream, Jesus.” His Jesus had an extra Irish lilt to it.

“You know I love you, but sometimes you need to get your head out of your ass. We invited him on to our bus, did you ever think he might want company? I know he's a quiet one, but even the quiet ones want to be social sometimes. And I've been talking to him for weeks. We all have.”

“What? For weeks? Without me? What do you mean you all have?” Liam said. He couldn’t help the betrayed tone to his voice, or the hurt look he knew was on his face.

“Jesus,” Niall said again. He looked at Liam and sighed. “Your face, mate. It’s like kicking a puppy when he’s down. Remember after the meeting where they announced Zayn was going to be our opener?”

Liam nodded. 

“Well we were leaving and we said one of us, or all of us really, should DM him, or something, and get to know him a bit before we all met up in New York. So I DM’d him and introduced myself.”

“What the fuck,” Liam hissed. “I was not there for that. Paul kept me after the meeting and we had a talk; I was NOT there when you guys all walked out together.”

“Oh,” Niall said. His blue eyes widened, reflecting the eerie gas station lights. “Oh, I guess not. Well, sorry then buddy, I assumed you guys had talked a bit before too, but now it makes sense why he was so weird to you at soundcheck– wait. What do you mean you spent time with him? When did you spend time with him?”

“In New York. We went to lunch and shopped together,” Liam said. He was still sulking though. No wonder Zayn had given him a cold reception, when all the other boys had reached out to him beforehand. He probably thought Liam felt above him and viewed him as just an opening act. Liam wanted to kick himself, after kicking all his bandmates' asses first.

“Oh, a little lunch date, huh?” Niall snickered before clambering on the bus. Liam huffed and followed. He was not ready for Zayn in his space. 

It was worse than he thought. Zayn was settling himself down on Liam’s lower bunk, just as Louis was saying, “Oh, yeah, sit there and make yourself comfortable mate.” 

Louis saw Liam come in and gave him his best patented innocent smile, which on Louis just made him look mildly deranged, and gave the impression he was about to commit some serious mischief.

Well, Liam thought, mischief managed. He would not let his boys embarrass him, he was going to act cool, calm, and sensible. 

“Blow Pop?” Zayn looked up at Liam from the where he sat on the bunk.

Liam almost choked, and started coughing. “Excuse me?”

Harry walked by and pounded him on the back, “Careful mate.”

Liam waved him off. “I’m fine, I'm fine,” he managed to gasp out.

Zayn smiled. A full genuine smile, with crinkled eyes and a scrunched up nose. “It’s just a sucker, Leeyum.”

He proffered the wrapped candy. Liam grabbed the stick and his fingers brushed against Zayns, who blinked at him and watched his face carefully.

Liam decided to be bold, having already choked, there was really nowhere else to go. He sat down on his bunk next to Zayn. Harry, Louis, and Niall were at the other end of the room that held the bunks, messing with something on the ground. Liam ignored them for the moment.

“Listen Zayn, there’s something you need to know,” Liam paused, then took a deep breath, and turned towards Zayn. He almost choked again. Zayn had a sucker of his own – he had it in his mouth, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide, and was sucking on it while making direct eye contact with Liam. Liam shifted on the bunk. Oh God, if he had to adjust himself in front of Zayn he was never going to live it down. 

“So, so, so you need to know…” Liam faltered.

Zayn pulled the sucker out his mouth with a pop. It was red, a small part of Liam’s brain noted. The only part that was online. “Yes?” Zayn said, before wrapping his lips back around the sucker until all Liam could see was the white stick and Zayn's thumb and index finger delicately holding the end. Liam stared at Zayn’s knuckles.  
.  
“Anyway,” he barreled on before this conversation went completely off the rails. “You need to know, before the tour, it’s not that I didn’t want to meet you, it’s that I didn’t know the boys talked about reaching out-“

“Hey Zayn, come over and pick out a song, yeah? You’re up first,” Niall interrupted. 

Zayn finally broke eye contact with Liam, and stood up, sucker still in his mouth, and walked over to where the boys were crowded around a screen. Liam realized they were setting up karaoke. Liam loved karaoke; he realized people would find that amusing, as he sang for a living and one would think he and the boys had enough singing between concerts and studio time, but Liam and the rest of them never passed up a chance to sing – it was in their blood. But he really wasn’t in the mood right now. 

He looked down at his sucker, and slowly unwrapped it. Red, just like Zayn’s had been. He put it in his mouth, trying to focus on the sweet flavor, and not the turbulence in his gut. He could not believe he could have been talking to Zayn, online at least, the last several weeks and he completely missed his chance.

“Ok, ok, introducing, Zaaaaayn,” Harry said in his best announcer voice, dragging out Zayn’s name.

He and Louis sat down on the floor in front of Zayn, as if they were children at reading hour. Niall sat down next to Liam and started eating Combos. 

“Not on my bed,” Liam said. Niall ignored him and began clapping wildly, bag still in hand, and made a racket.

“And Zaaaayn,” Harry continued. “What will you be performing for us tonight?” 

“Well everyone, thank you for having me,” Zayn smirked. He looked around the room until his eyes met Liam. Liam subconsciously pulled the sucker out of his mouth and waited for Zayn to speak again. Zayn seemed to pause, staring at Liam. Then he shook his head and continued. “A classic. Elvis Presley’s Falling in Love.”

“Can’t Help. Can’t Help Falling in Love, mate,” Louis corrected, without malice. 

“Oh yeah, whatever,” Zayn said, seemingly unconcerned. “Ok, hit it.”

The music started and Liam held his breath. He had been waiting to hear Zayn sing live since the first time he stumbled upon his song Praise You. He remembered watching the lyric video; he didn’t even know what Zayn looked like at that point. But the first time he heard Zayn's voice, he knew he had fallen a bit in love, sight unseen. Something about that voice drew him like a moth to flame, and Liam couldn’t parse out why; but hearing Zayn live was something he had dreamed about for a long time. Zayn opened his mouth and began to sing.

“Wiiiise men say, only fools rush in,” Zayn began and Liam realized he was having a transcendent moment. He shivered, feeling goosebumps on the back of his neck. Zayn continued to sing, and Liam listened. “Like a river flo-oows,” Zayn sang, and that smokey texture to his voice, that soothing tone that had drawn Liam in was in full force, right in front of him in the flesh; and that voice was housed in a slender body with the most beautiful wide dark eyes, and Liam couldn’t look away. 

Zayn’s right hand gripped the microphone, and he stood there, feet slightly apart, his legs still, his upper body and head turned slightly to give his focus to each member of One Direction in turn. He looked calm, almost zen like. He wasn’t a bombastic presence, he didn’t ham it up, like the rest of them did for karaoke, or often enough, on stage. And yet he commanded the boys attention anyway, which, with the short attention span everyone had – and Liam included himself in this- was not an easy feat. 

Zayn finished the song, the music stopped, and he simply nodded his head, and said, “Who’s up next?”

Liam took a deep breath amidst the clapping and whooping around him. 

“Meeee!” Niall said, and jumped to his feet, causing the mattress Liam was sitting on jostle him, not that he really noticed. 

Zayn walked over and took Niall’s place on the bunk. He gave Liam a small smile, his mouth barely upturned at the corners, but his eyes were sparkling. Liam swallowed and turned back to the other boys. This was another one of those moments he would freeze in time – the first time he heard Zayn Malik sing live. And the first time he realized just how far he would go to hear that voice in front of him again.


	6. The Bean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you live in the U.S., don't forget to vote tomorrow if you are able! 
> 
> This chapter specifically, but the entire story in general, was inspired by the following quote:  
> "For the past five years now I’ve been part of something so special I don’t think any of us really understand, something that can mean the world to people and put a smile on the face of our fans even in the darkest times. To a lot of people it’s just a bunch of silly kids in a band but to the people involved it means so much more.”

Liam wondered what on Earth the boys, and himself, had been thinking when they thought taking the bus the entire12-hour plus drive from New York to Chicago was a good idea. The band had the option of flying, at this stage in the game. They could have stayed in New York after their last Garden show, slept in and flown out anytime later in the day, or even evening, but no – they went the insanity route. All four boys crammed into one bus, not even taking separate buses or dividing up. 

Liam didn't know if it was possible to already feel nostalgia for the early days of One Direction. The first tour was magical and life changing. But Liam knew that as much as the highs of singing in front of thousands - who showed up just to hear four lads from average backgrounds sing their hearts out - the memories of four friends on a cramped bus living out of each other’s pockets, eating late night food, singing bad karaoke and practicing “choreography” (although Liam hesitated to even call it that) were just as precious to him as any moment on stage. When Louis suggested they all take the bus for old time sake, Liam did not hesitate to say yes. 

The difference, Liam thought when he woke up the next day - still in a bus, still on the road -the difference was the years that had passed, the clothes and hair cuts that had changed, and the boys themselves that had changed; but nothing compared to the truth that the other three boys were the only ones in the entire world that had lived through the madness that was One Direction. That would never change.

Liam surmised the other difference, curled up next to him on the floor. Zayn. There were actually five boys who had been in the bus last night.  


Niall was on the other side of Liam, lying on his back, one hand thrown over his eyes while he softly snored. Louis and Harry were crammed together on one of the bottom bunks. The two of them looked like they were going to wake up with terrible kinks in their necks with how they were piled on top of each other. Liam shook his head fondly at all the boys.

After karaoke (round after round of karaoke) the boys had switched to video games, and then had piled cushions and blankets on the floor while trading stories of past tours. Liam knew all the tales by heart, but he never got tired of telling them or listening to the boys recite them as he laughed or clutched his stomach, depending on the story. Remember when we pulled Harry's pants down? Remember when we all came down with the flu at the same time? Remember the show where the rain didn't stop? Remember when? Remember?

At one point in the night, during the midst of Harry telling an epic, albeit very meandering story, Liam leaned over to Zayn, who had been quietly sitting and listening to the boys' stories with a thoughtful expression and an occasional smile on his face, and whispered, “Hey, sorry, this must be boring for you. A lot of these are kind of, you had to be there, you know, type stories.”  


Zayn, wrapped up in a thick purple blanket that Liam thought gave him a vaguely regal look, shook his head. “I don’t mind. The stories are nice. You guys are pretty funny.” Zayn hesitated, then shrugged, causing the blanket to fall off one shoulder. 

“I don’t think I could ever be in a band like this, you know. No offense!” Zayn looked at Liam with wide eyes.

Liam chuckled. If Zayn had said this the day they met he would have been annoyed, but having spent a little bit of time with him, Liam thinks he knows what Zayn is getting at. “Gotta keep up that mysterious lone wolf thing, lone wolf in leather at that, you got going on?” Liam teased.

Zayn flashed a crooked smile,. “What I meant to say was, I could never be in a band like this, but it must be nice sometimes, not being alone. Having someone who understands what you’ve been through.”

Liam pursed his lips and thought for a second before answering. “It is. We used to joke it was like going to war together. Obviously we have it ridiculously easy and we aren’t in combat, we didn’t mean it like that at all. Just that, what the four of us had been through is something only we can understand. It’s like we are in a bubble sometimes. We don’t forget about our fans, or the madness, it’s just sometimes, being on the inside, you can’t fully grasp or process it all. And then when you do have that moment, which I have had, it’s almost like a full on panic when you think about the enormity of it and it’s almost like you’re drowning - but you turn to your boys to help bring you back into the bubble. It’s like a survival mechanism, really. ”

Zayn raised an eyebrow and didn’t break his gaze from Liam. “Wow, Leeyum,” he said softly. “Never knew boy-banders were game for psycho-analysis.”

“We are full of surprises,” Liam said cheerfully, but he had to duck his head to look away from Zayn’s gaze. He couldn’t tell if Zayn's looks were always this intense, or if it was just the big Bambi eyes focusing all his attention on Liam.

“Well, I like being a long wolf, so to speak, but it’s nice having other people my age to tour with,” Zayn said.

“Why Zayn,” Liam smiled as he settled back into the cushions further, suddenly feeling very sleepy and content. “The fact that you just admitted that you don’t hate touring with One Direction shocks me to no end.”

Zayn smacked his hand on Liam’s shoulder, none too gently. “Ouch, the rings Zayn, don’t forget your rings,” Liam grimaced, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Zayn said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled his blanket back up around his shoulders. “But I never said I hated touring with you guys.”

“So it was YOUR idea to tour with us? Or are you saying when the label told you it was happening, you were jumping up and down with joy?” Liam knew their music wasn’t for everyone. Hell, if it was up to him they would throw in some hip hop, some electronic, and Liam would be rapping a chorus. It was not up to him, however, so while he didn’t mind their music, he understood how it wasn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. Before Zayn could answer, they were both being pelted in the face by what appeared to be small cookies. 

“Hey, now!” Louis was throwing what appeared to be teddy graham cookies at their heads to get their attention. “You just missed the end of Harold’s really, really long story. As punishment he is going to start over from the beginning.”

Everyone groaned. Harry made a face, “It wasn’t THAT long,” he said.

“No, it wasn’t a long story,” Louis agreed, “but the way you told it was.”

Harry smacked Louis with a pillow, and suddenly everyone slammed each other in the face with the nearest pillow or cushion they could grab. It only devolved from there.

Liam smiled at the memory of Zayn hesitating, but eventually joining the pillow fight. He might not be built but Zayn packed a surprisingly strong pillow punch. Liam sighed, surveying the mess that was the bus. There were empty packets of processed gas station food littered amongst the cushions and blankets. It was all rather gross and Liam just wanted to get to the hotel for a hot shower and a long nap on a nice soft bed – maybe the boys, men really, Liam thought, were past the age of tour bus sleepovers.  


He looked down again at Zayn, curled on his side, epic lashes fanned across his cheekbones, the long swoop of hair that was normally styled high down the middle of his head now fell down across his forehead. Liam wanted to push it gently, oh so gently, off his face. 

He suddenly felt an urge, not to protect Zayn, exactly, but to shield him from what was to come. Liam knew, better than most, the double edged sword of fame. He didn’t need to know much about Zayn to know his thoughtful personality might not be best suited to the spotlight of fame. But, Liam reminded himself, Zayn was an adult, he could handle himself. Liam could, however, make himself available if Zayn ever needed to talk or solicit advise, as unlikely as that might be. Liam reluctantly untangled himself from the floor and slowly stood up; he wanted to grab a bite to eat and to see how much longer until they arrived at their hotel. The next day was going to be a long one.

 

Liam watched Harry’s scarf whip into his face for the millionth time. 

“Take the damn thing off, Harry!” Niall growled, holding up his phone as he tried yet again to get a good group selfie, but Harry’s scarf had other ideas. 

“I can’t take it off,” Harry said calmly. “It completes my ensemble.”

“Harry,” Louis said, dangerously calm, “If it helps us get out of here so I can having a fucking cup of tea, then take it off.” 

It was sunrise at The Bean, and all the boys were grumpy and half asleep. The early hour was essential though, to avoid the crowds and get a jump start on their long day. Liam tiredly rubbed at his eyes, but before he could try and broker peace, or strangle Harry with his scarf, Zayn, who had been standing in front of the boys looking asleep on his feet, stumbled over.

“Here, let me, if that’s ok,” Zayn mumbled from underneath a gray beanie. Liam watched as Zayns slender fingers deftly twisted Harry’s scarf around into intertwining loops. He stepped back and gave a small nod, as if satisfied with a job well done, and Harry’s scarf stayed put. Harry smiled, and Niall took the group selfie. 

Liam thought the nickname windy city meaningless until the mornings' high winds had pushed against them the moment they had got out of their vehicles, and threatened all the boys' carefully constructed coifs. The band had a small entourage of security, hair and makeup, and official tour photographer and videographer, as well as Paul, of course, leading the herd through a long day of photos and public appearances. 

The photos at the Bean took forever - the boys wanted their own personal photos, and then the photographer had to take a million shots of the boys jumping, posing, touching The Bean, and basically being chaotic idiots, which Liam thought was pretty on point for their appeal, really. The less formal, the less choreographed and staged, and the more the boys were themselves, the more the fans seemed to connect. Liam used to wish he could truly be himself, but he had since come to terms that it was wiser to keep parts of himself and his life private, no matter how annoying it was to always be pegged as the sensible one, or the boring one.

“Zayn, join us for a photo,” Niall said, giving his arm a break by lowering his phone and gesturing at Zayn, who was wearing his trademark leather jacket over black skinny jeans and boots.

Zayn looked up, surprise on his face. “It’s ok,” he started.

“Nonsense,” Louis said in his tone that left no room for argument. “After coming in second in the pillow rager, you need to be in at least a couple of these. You’ve earned your place.”

“Second place? Who the fuck was first?” Zayn said as he stepped next to Liam, who tried not to show he was inordinately pleased that Zayn was not only going to be in some of their photos, but would be standing next to HIM. 

“Me. I was the clear winner, mate, better luck next time and all that,” Louis said. 

“I don’t think you won, if I recall I clearly bested you,” Zayn said. 

Louis reached across Liam and pinched Zayn’s arm. “Seriously?” Zayn said, attempting to reach behind Liam to grab Louis. 

“Guys!” Niall said, “don’t move.”

Liam didn’t think, he wrapped his arm around Zayn, gripped a leather sleeve and pulled him in tight, trapping his arms against his side so he couldn’t reach for Louis. Zayn huffed in surprise and Liam thought he would pull away, but Zayn settled against him and posed for the photos, with Niall moving his phone around and the professional photographer taking shots of the boys goofing off. 

“Leeyum,” Zayn said, so close to his ear that Liam shivered. “Look up.” 

Liam looked up to see his and Zayn’s reflections staring back at them, distorted by the curves of the Bean that arched over their heads. “Smile Leeyum,” and Zayn snapped a photo on his phone. Years of being conditioned to automatically smile on command was the only reason Liam was able to grin, as the rest of him felt frozen. He felt every point of contact with Zayn – his hair that stuck out of his beanie that tickled Liam’s ear, the porous texture of the leather jacket under his fingers, smooth and cool to the touch, and the jut of his hip tucked against Liam’s side. Liam smelled his cologne.

“I like your cologne, what is that?” he whispered.

“Dolce and Gabbana, Light Blue, I think,” Zayn answered. He looked up at Liam, breath warm on Liam’s face. They were so close.

Liam felt hot – he realized Zayn was only an inch or two shorter than himself, and he realized he could not look away. Zayn licked his lips - Liam watched as the tip of his very pink tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, and he realized he had started trying to take in more air. He felt lightheaded and he was now holding Zayn's arm in what must be a painful grip. Zayn turned his body towards Liam so that half his chest was now pressed up against him. Liam started breathing harder and looked down past Zayn's mouth to his sharp jawline, his elegant neck, and those damn collarbones that were drenched in dark ink, that he had become fixated on. Liam swallowed and Zayn made a small noise.

“Liam, Zayn, come on! We’re taking shots on the other side now,”

They didn’t jump apart. Liam turned towards the photographer, Kim was her name, he dazedly thought. 

“Ok,” was all he said, and he dropped his arm from around Zayn, who waited a moment before stepping back and then walking over to where the other boys were goofing off. 

Had Liam imagined that? He had never felt sexual tension like that with anyone. Ever. He obviously thought Zayn was beautiful. And he could maybe almost believe the possibility that Zayn could find him generally attractive - if the clean cut with short hair and some muscles look did it for him. But that noise Zayn had made, almost like he swallowed a moan… Liam shivered again. He shook his head. Now was not the time.

After The Bean was an early morning radio interview. Luckily there was tea and coffee and a veritable spread of bagels and pastries in the station’s green room, so all the boys perked up. Liam absently ate a croissant and watched while the hair stylist tamed Harry’s windblown curls and then insisted Zayn remove his beanie so she could style his hair up. Zayn had a mug in one hand, a bagel in the other, and a small pout on his face. Liam chuckled, and Zayn looked over at him and glared, which just made Liam smile harder. 

“You know this interview is being live streamed, yeah?” Liam sat down in the chair next to him. 

“I know,” Zayn said impatiently, “but no one will be looking at me when you guys are in the same room.”

“Trust me, Zayn, there will be people looking at you,” Liam said.

Zayn rolled his eyes, but Liam didn’t miss the slight redness on his cheeks. It felt nice to turn the tables; all those times Zayn had made him blush all over weren’t as embarrassing if he could bring it out in the other boy as well. 

“I mean, people won’t even know who I am.” Zayn said.

“Nonsense, plenty of people will know who you are, and the others that don’t will learn about you through us,” Liam said.

“Great, my first introduction to the masses will be through One Direction,” Zayn muttered. “Just the kind of dumb audience I want.”

“We aren’t THAT bad Zayn. And this band, because of the fans, has given me everything I have, not to mention what I’ve been able to help my family with.” Liam was annoyed. No matter how obsessed or attracted he may be to Zayn, he couldn’t let that go. It was fine to not like their music, but to be embarrassed to be associated with the band or to look down on their dedicated fans left Liam rankled. He had long ago left behind the feeling of shame of being in a boy band. No matter what type of music he’d rather be creating, this band and his boys had given him everything. 

“Sorry Liam,” Zayn said, looking at Liam with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you’re the lone wolf who’s too cool for boy bands, but try not too shit on us or our fans too much, yeah?” Liam said sharply.

Liam got out of the chair and went over to the food table. But he didn’t grab anything and he wasn’t hungry. He looked back over at Zayn, who was twisting one of his many rings while the stylist sprayed his hair, a pensive look on his face. Liam sighed, not in the mood for a radio interview after all.


	7. Art Appreciation in the Windy City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by:  
> when Liam said (in real life!) in an interview that he watched an art documentary on the artist David Hockney. I was fortunate enough to see the David Hockney exhibit at the Met Museum in NYC last year, as he has been one of my Mom's favorite artists since I can remember, and the painting Nichols Canyon is so vibrant up close it almost took my breath away.

“Ten minutes to warm up, hurry up boys,” Paul shouted into the room, so used to the chaos he didn’t even blink at the madness that was One Direction an hour before they were due on stage.

Liam was frantically going through a dressing rack of clothing, having suffered a last minute change of mind on the shirt he was to wear. It was Chicago, it was the United Center, Liam had performed hundreds of times across continents, but tonight he was on the verge of losing it, and he had no idea why. 

“Liam, mate, just pick a damn shirt,” Louis drawled from where he was watching Liam’s reflection in the mirror he faced as the finishing touches were put on his deceptively complex hair.

“I am, I am,” Liam muttered. 

“What’s wrong? You’ve been in a right snit since the radio show this morning. The hosts weren’t that bad, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Liam said, as he pulled a simple black t-shirt off the rack to inspect it closer. There was nothing to inspect. It was just a lightweight black t-shirt. Liam sighed. What WAS wrong with him tonight. He knew the answer, but didn’t want to admit it to himself. But his traitorous brain whispered the name Zayn.

It couldn’t even be called an argument, really. Zayn had called One Direction fans dumb, and had basically said he didn’t want the lot to get to know him. Did Zayn think HE was too good for One Direction? The thought troubled Liam on several levels. Obviously Zayn was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever met in real life (the MOST beautiful, his brain whispered again) but did he really think his music was above the “shallow” tastes of One Direction fans? Liam was not ready to reconcile the fact that his crush might be an arrogant jerk. Or, super pretentious at the very least. Or, worst of all, ungrateful for the opportunity to tour with One Direction. 

Liam suddenly remembered Paul's words – ten minutes until warm up? He threw on the next shirt on the rack, a navy blue button up, and raced out of the room.

“Better not be late to warm up or Paul will have your ass,” Louis yelled after him, but Liam just skidded around a corner and tried to be inconspicuous. Which wasn’t really possible, if the way everyone looked mildly alarmed as he ran the opposite way he should have been headed this close to show time. 

Liam made it to the backstage area in several breathless minutes, and slowed down as he carefully ascended the stairs to stage left. Everyone hung out on the periphery of the stage, from stage techs to arena employees to guests with backstage passes; they all looked at him, but no one stopped him. Perks of being in the band, Liam thought distractedly. He stopped next to a bored looking security guy employed by the arena, and looked out onstage.

Zayn had just finished a song and faced the crowd, a faint smile on his face. The crowd clapped, and Liam turned his gaze outwards into the vast wave of people. The arena already looked full. Liam was interested to see how the fans were taking to Zayn. He had heard talk of, and read reviews, of the Garden shows. Most people, fans and professional critics alike, commented that Zayn was a curious choice as opener for the boy band, but the reviews for his voice had been positive, and it was noted by more than one person that as One Direction’s sound had evolved and grown more sophisticated over the years since their first effort, their fan base had grown and expanded as well, leaving them more receptive to embracing an opener like Zayn. And, of course, his symmetrical face didn’t hurt either, as many on twitter were quick to point out.

“For my next song,” Zayn said, leaning forward slightly as he adjusted the mic stand, “I want to try something a little different. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to sing this, or if I even SHOULD sing this. But, I’ll ask for forgiveness if it doesn’t work out…”

Liam grinned, his annoyance and doubt at Zayn temporarily forgotten. The crowd shouted encouragement as Zayn looked down for a moment before squaring his shoulders. He turned toward the guitarist standing just behind him, and nodded once. The guitarist nodded back, and turned to the keyboardist behind him and gave a thumbs up. The opening notes on the keyboard rang out into the arena, and then the guitar strummed in. Zayn began to sang, 

“I’ll show you, that I love you, in so, so many ways.  
I’ll show you, that I love you, in so many ways.”

It was one thing to see Zayn on the bus, singing into a karaoke mic; if that had been a transcendent moment, then Liam thought he might actually achieve Nirvana tonight.

Zayn’s smooth voice carried over the crowd and washed right over Liam. He felt himself grin and couldn’t even control it – here was a fellow musician, defying Management by singing what HE wanted to sing, and doing it damn well. Liam felt proud of Zayn, despite wanting to smack him for being a douchebag.

“Ah I want to know, I want to know, what did I do wrong?”

Zayn’s voiced caressed over the words, holding the last high note and causing Liam to shiver. The grin didn't leave his face the entire song, and he started whooping before the final note had ended. Zayn turned, as if on instinct, and glanced right where Liam stood transfixed and clapping. He met Liam’s eyes and gave him a small smile along with a shrug, then turned back to the crowd. Liam missed what Zayn said next into the mic, as his arm was abruptly grabbed,

“Liam, backstage, NOW,” Paul barked. He did not look happy. 

Liam followed Paul back down the stairs and through the hallways to the room where the boys were already warming up. Before he opened the door, Paul turned to Liam.

“Liam, lad, you said this wouldn’t become a problem,” Paul started.

“It’s not a problem,” Liam protested. “I just wanted to see him sing live, you know, and hadn’t had a chance in New York.”

“Liam,” Paul said, gently this time, and put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Liam shrugged Paul’s hand off his shoulder, and turned to open the door to join warmup. The other boys all turned to him, but one glance at the expression on his face and they all turned back around to focus on singing. 

Niall bumped his shoulder though, and Louis gave him a smirk, while Harry nodded. Liam knew there would be words later, but for now he relaxed his throat, took a deep breath, and joined in the harmony. 

 

The show went well, but if someone had asked Liam to mention one thing that had stood out during the performance, he would have drawn a blank. He danced, he sang, he worked up a sweat, his ears rang from the cheers of the crowd and his heart swelled from all the love and affection pouring forth from the windy-city, but his mind was preoccupied and the moment the show was over he promptly forgot most of what had transpired on stage. 

Back in his hotel room, after a long shower, Liam was restless. His body was tired, but his mind raced in a million directions at once. He pulled on a pair of joggers and sat on the edge of his bed, staring into space. He shook his head and stood up. He went over to his suitcase and opened the zipper on the side compartment. He took out a well-worn red sketchbook and a cloth case that held a set of pencils. He went back to the bed and put a documentary on his laptop about the artist David Hockney. Liam was almost halfway through it; he had started the program back home before the new leg of the tour had started (the Zayn leg, as he had started thinking of it), and he wanted to finish it. 

He also pulled up a picture he'd taken on his phone at the record store he had seen with Zayn. The photo showed the rows and rows of vinyl records and Liam had accidentally caught Zayn’s right arm in the shot, hovering over a stack of vinyl while his fingers grasped the edge of the top record.

Liam wished he had the skill to draw from his memory of a specific image, like Hockney talked about in the documentary, but he liked having a reference to go off of. He wanted to draw the endless lines of the records in the bins as he found it relaxing. He could almost zone out and just focus on the sharp lines and edges he had to pencil in over and over. 

Liam was well into the sketch when he heard a soft knock on the door. He sighed; it was probably security or one of the boys. He put down the sketchpad and looked out the peephole before he opened the door. Zayn’s magnified face was looking right at the door, eyes comically huge in the fishbowl lens effect of the peephole. Liam took a deep breath, then unlocked and opened the door.

“Hey, do you have a moment?” Zayn said. He wore a large pink hoodie over black joggers, his hair looked freshly washed and fell over his forehead, and Liam thought he looked very soft and touchable. 

“Sure, come in,” Liam held the door as Zayn walked in. 

“Are you hungry, I can order some food?” 

“Nah, I’m good man, thanks,” Zayn said. He went and sat on the edge of Liam’s bed and kicked his shoes off. A rather bold move, Liam thought, that he personally would not be capable of.

Liam didn’t know what to do, so he also went over to the bed and sat back in front of where his stuff was set up, a careful distance from where Zayn balanced on the edge of the bed. He closed his sketchbook, but not before Zayn leaned over and took a peek at his drawing.

“The record store we went to?” Zayn glanced at Liam with a surprised look on his face. Liam refused to feel embarrassed.

“Yeah, I still had a lot of energy after the show, and sketching all those lines helps me relax,” Liam explained to Zayn’s inquisitive expression.

“Have you sketched for a long time?” Zayn asked.

Liam hesitated. The boys knew he sketched to relax, but no one had seen his sketchbook, not the boys, not his friends, and not even his family. Liam wasn’t sure why. He liked having something to himself, just for him. Probably, he thought, because so much of his life was out there for public consumption.

“I’ve always liked to draw, just silly shit here and there, but I didn’t start sketching until the the last tour. I’ve almost filled up this book, actually. Time to start a new one soon.”

Zayn was silent for a moment, looking across the hotel room. He turned back to Liam. “Could I see?” he said quickly. “I mean, only if you feel comfortable showing me, if it’s personal…”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I don’t mind,” Liam said, before he could think about it too hard. He went to hand the book over to Zayn, but Zayn scooted fully onto the bed, right next to Liam, and reached over him to re-open the sketchbook. His arm draped across Liam’s knee as he took in each page before gently flipping them over to the next sketch. 

The silence stretched on, but Liam didn’t feel uncomfortable with the proximity, just anxious about Zayn's opinions in regards to what lay in his precious red leather-bound book. What did Zayn think of his sketches? What did it matter what he thought? (It mattered, his brain whispered. It really did matter.) Zayn was a still an ass. An ass that smelled really good. 

Liam discreetly tried to smell the back of Zayn’s head as he leaned forward to look at each page. It smelled like citrus, and Liam wondered what shampoo he used. Liam had just used the hotel’s shampoo, which smelled like fake coconut. Zayn felt warm against his knee, and Liam wanted to freeze the moment.

Zayn finally broke the silence. “These are good Leeyum. Like, really good. Thank you so much for showing me.” He closed the book and sat up fully, leaving Liam’s knee free to recover.

“Ah, thanks. I really enjoy it, but I’m so new to it all.” Liam tried not to blush and feel flustered, but it was a losing battle.

Zayn spared him further embarrassment by looking at his laptop screen, which Liam had paused before getting up. “You like David Hockney?”

Liam nodded. Zayn had moved off of his knee, but sat right next to Liam, so close that Liam could see the overhead light refracted in his eyes and the stubble on his chin. 

Liam suddenly felt conscious that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, even though he spent plenty of time shirtless and was currently in peak shape for the tour. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know that much about him, but this documentary is interesting, you know, and I like his style a lot.”

“Do you have a favorite piece, or painting?,” Zayn gave Liam his full-blown intense stare. Liam gulped. The full Zayn stare was a lot to handle this close up while sitting next to the man, in a soft hotel bed. 

“Uh.. yeah, A Bigger Splash,” Liam said, trying valiantly to maintain eye contact. 

“Hmm. Mine’s Nichols Canyon,” Zayn said.

“Which one is that?” Liam asked.

Zayn looked down at Liam’s chest for a moment before looking back up. Liam wondered what Zayn’s thoughts were on chest hair. Did Zayn have any thoughts on chest hair? Or, more to the point, LIAM’S chest hair?

“Here let me show you,” Zayn pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket, and while he pulled up an image of the painting on the phone, he leaned back into the pillows that were stacked against the headboard. Liam followed suit, until they both were propped up against the pillows with their legs spread out in front of them. Liam looked at his own bare feet next to Zayn’s more narrow feet, which were covered in black socks with little green skulls on them. Liam almost giggled.

“This one,” Zayn said, leaning into Liam’s side to show him the painting. Liam could feel his warm breath against his cheek, and he flashed back to their moment of shared tension in front of The Bean.

“Wow,” Liam said. “The colors are bloody brilliant.”

“Yeah, yeah they are. I saw it at the Tate in London. It’s a good size, and the colors are so vibrant it’s unbelievable.”

They looked at the image for another minute, before Zayn lowered his phone. “I actually do a bit of drawing meself,” he said softly.

“Really? Do you sketch?”

“A bit. But I really love graffiti art. I love bright colors. I have a room back at home…” Zayn held his phone back up and scrolled through his photos until he stopped. Liam looked at the image. It was a photo of a large sheet tacked up on what appeared to be a long wall. A multitude of shapes in bright, contrasting colors adorned the sheet. The overall effect was one of cheerful anger, Liam thought, if such a thing existed. 

“Zayn, that’s amazing. Like, professional level, mate,” Liam said, looking at Zayn, who lowered his eyes began to smile . “You need to put that in an exhibit.”

Zayn laughed, “I’m not at that level, but thanks, Leeyum.”

“Well, at the very least you should be helping design your merch, or better yet!” Liam was, excited struck by an idea. “You should do the artwork for merch! This would look amazing on a t-shirt.”

Zayn laughed again, full on this time, eyes squinting and nose crinkling up. “You're cute when you get excited about something, like an eager puppy, you know that?”

Liam felt himself blushing. Again. “Well I’m excited because it’s a brilliant idea. Because your stuff is that good.”

Zayn stopped laughing and looked at Liam for a long moment. Liam just looked back. He felt his chest rise, he felt the softness of the duvet under his fingers, and still smelled citrus. 

“You are full of surprises Liam Payne.” Zayn whispered. Liam didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Also,” Zayn continued at a more normal volume. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have dumped on your fans. Sometimes I just worry that this tour wasn’t the best fit for my music, but management…” He trailed off.

“Zayn,” Liam began.

“No, I need to apologize. Your fans have been nothing but supportive and welcoming to me. Tonight when I sang the cover, they liked it, really liked it. And I appreciate any fan support, otherwise I’ll just be singing in the shower, you know?”

Liam didn’t think about Zayn singing in the shower, but the traitorous part of his brain reminded him that he WOULD be thinking about it later, alone in his bed, once Zayn had left,

“They can be crazy, but they're the most supportive fan base out there,” Liam said. And just like that he wasn't annoyed anymore. “What was the response from Management to adding the cover song in?”

“Ha, well, they said to make sure to stick to the set list. I said the song meant a lot to me for personal reasons, and the response was positive so I’m going to add it again to the set list. They said fine, but moving forward to let them know. So, a partial victory?”

“I’d say a full victory for today,” Liam smiled. 

“Hey, I have another band for you to check out,” Zayn said, pulling up music on his phone. Liam turned more on his side so he was facing Zayn, their knees bumping into each other and faces close. Liam sunk further into the pillows and thought, full victory for today indeed.


	8. The Stars at Night Are Big and Bright, Deep in the Heart of Texas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, seriously makes my day/week/all the things! Hope you enjoy the boys being "deep in the heart of Texas," cliches and all.

“A mariachi band!” Louis yelled, over the crowded, noisy table. 

“Yes, mariachi! Mariachi!” Niall cheered next to him, while Harry, on Louis’ other side, waved his large margarita glass in the air, oblivious to the drink spilling over the heavily salted rim. 

Liam rolled his eyes and looked at each of the boys in turn. He sat across from them at a long table that was full of the boys, members of the band, as well as various members of their team, including drivers, security, and techs. There were so many people they actually took up four long tables in the middle of the room, having rented out a famous tex-mex restaurant for the night. It was a nice change of pace to be eating out with the entire team without having to worry about his meal being interrupted by people trying to take photos. Liam had looked around at the brightly lit place when they first walked in. He loved everything about it: the colors, the tile, and the festive, multi-colored paper banners, the ones with intricate cut-out designs that Liam loved to look at; they crisscrossed the walls and hung from the wooden beams in the ceiling, instantly creating a party atmosphere.

"Papel picados," Zayn quietly informed him, when Liam wondered out loud what the banners were called. Liam was impressed, as always, with Zayn's wide range of knowledge, from comics to music to art to other cultures. 

Of all the places the boys had traveled to, Texas made Liam feel like he was in the most stereotypical “America” out of all the states. It might be the sheer size of the state, or the accents, or the food portions (which were ridiculous across America but especially in this hot desert of a state), but he always found Texas extra amusing. Case in point -they were currently being serenaded by a mariachi band. 

Zayn sat next to Liam, watching the band with big eyes and a small smirk, his head almost imperceptibly moved from side to side. The last time Liam sat this close to Zayn was in his hotel room in Chicago where, pressed together leg to leg, Zayn had shared music from his various playlists until it was Liam's turn to share some of his favorite songs and the reasons behind his picks. Zayn left after another hour, yawning in Liam’s face, and Liam spent the next hour alone in the dark and trying in vain to fall asleep, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Zayn had apologized for his comments about One Direction’s fans, and Liam was relieved he didn’t have to stay mad at someone who he desperately did not want to stay mad at.

The boys had flown from Chicago to Texas, Zayn on a different flight, and now the southern part of the American leg of the tour had begun in the city of San Antonio, with Houston, Dallas, and for the first time, Austin, to follow. 

Zayn's leg currently pressed up against Liam – the tables had long benches instead of chairs – and Liam felt every inch of Zayn’s warm thigh against his. Zayn’s hair wasn't styled; his thick, soft locks fell across his forehead and ears, making him seem even sexier then usual, just the right side of unkempt, Liam thought. Similar to the morning on the tour bus when he woke up before Zayn and watched him sleep atop a pile of cushions on the floor, Liam felt the urge to push Zayn's dark strands off his forehead. He clenched his napkin tightly instead, then put it back in his lap and continued tucking into his chili con carne, which was so delicious Liam was almost able to forget the heat from Zayn’s thigh. Almost. A part of Liam’s mind, he was beginning to realize, seemed forever tuned in to Zayn. 

“Do you like the food?” Liam turned to Zayn.

Zayn looked up from his plate, where he’d hardly touched his enchiladas. He knocked his knee lightly against Liam’s leg and smiled. “Yeah, I’ve never had tex-mex food before. This place is just a little distracting.” He gestured toward the mariachi band and the three servers that approached the table, all of them balancing a tower of margarita glasses on top of their heads; each goblet separated by a thin wooden coaster. The entire show gave Liam mild anxiety. The first server slowly knelt down, while another server rushed over and stood on their toes, then gently lifted the top most glass off the tower of drinks.

Everyone at the table cheered, but over the sound of the mariachi band it blended together into a wall of noise. Liam was unperturbed – he was used to screaming crowds, screaming arenas, screaming paparazzi, and screaming patrons when he went to Starbucks; this type of loudness was actually a nice change of pace as no one was screaming AT him. Zayn, however, looked slightly overwhelmed.

Without thinking about it, Liam wrapped his arm around Zayn (sans jacket so Liam could actually feel his wiry arm through the thin long-sleeved black shirt he wore) and squeezed.

“You’ll get used to being in constant chaos around us, you know, and on tour. The key is to grab quiet moments when you can, yeah?”

Zayn turned to Liam, and smiled softly. “Wise words from Mr. Payne,” he said, and leaned closer to Liam’s ear so he could be heard above the noise. “Ya going to be me life coach on this tour?”

Liam laughed. “I charge by the hour. Dunno if you can afford my services.”

Zayn leaned back from Liam and made direct eye-contact, doing what Liam thought of as one of his trademark slow blinks; the kind where every eyelash seemed to flutter.

“Oh, I’m willing to pay whatever price it takes if I can get one on one help from the great Mr. Payne.”

Liam swallowed, unprepared for the flirty tone Zayn had taken. Forget flirty, Liam thought, Zayn had flown right past flirty and headlong into sexual innuendo territory. Zayn maintained unwavering eye contact, and Liam swallowed again. 

“Hey,” Louis barked, throwing chips at Liam. He turned, jaw clenched.

“Yes?” 

“Are you even listening? 

Liam sighed. “It’s kind of hard to hear over the music and cheering.”

“The music stopped already Liam?” Louis smirked. 

Liam looked around. The mariachi band had departed from besides their table, and all the drinks must have been delivered, as the servers were refilling water and putting down extra napkins. 

“ANYWAY,” Louis said, “we wanna go next door to the dance hall, they have a mechanical bull.”

“Yeehaw,” Harry muttered, putting a chip overloaded with guacamole in his mouth. 

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to ride a mechanical bull, “ Liam said. He realized his arm was still wrapped around Zayn - he dropped it self-consciously and fiddled with the napkin in his lap.

“Zayn? Are you up for riding a bull?” Louis said, turning his signature up-to–no-good look on Zayn.

"Eh," Zayn shrugged and started eating his enchilada.

“You two are NO fun, old men yeah,” Louis looked disgusted. 

“Wait, what?” Niall turned from where he was yelling at someone at the far end of the table. “You guys have to come! We all have to ride the bull, all of us!”

Liam sighed. It was The Bean all over again. For whatever reason, Liam had no problem saying no to Louis, but Niall and his imploring blue eyes were a lot harder to let down.

“Niall, I’m really not in the mood to get thrown off the bull-“ Liam began.

“I know, I know, that’s why we are all doing these!” Niall crowed as a tray of what looked to be tequila shots were brought over to the boys. Liam groaned. No way was the night going to end well if tequila shots were involved. 

The boys, led by Niall, put a line of salt on their wrists. Liam, against his better judgement but unwilling to let Niall down, followed suite. To his surprise, he watched Zayn pick up the salt from where Liam had put it down, and carefully shake out a line of salt on the inside of his wrist, right above where his ink started. He looked up at Liam and shrugged, the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile.

“Liquid courage boys,” Niall yelled. “To conquering the bull!”

“To the bull!” Louis cheered. The boys bent their heads down, licked their wrists, threw back the shots, and then grabbed limes from the bowl that had been set down with the shots. Liam winced, focused on each step of the shot - the tingle on his lips from the salt, the burn of the tequila down his throat which was quickly replaced by warmth, and then the tart burst of lime on his tongue. Before he could even say a word, a second round of shots was being set down in front of them. 

“Oh god,” Liam groaned.

“Bull, bull, bull,” Louis cheered nonsensically, while Harry beamed his million watt smile at anyone who looked his way. 

“I’m going to regret this,” Zayn said under his breath next to Liam; nevertheless he put a line of salt on his wrist again. This time, Liam watched Zayn lick his wrist as he licked his own, a shiver running down his spine as Zayn’s tongue touched the salt, as his throat moved as he swallowed, and as his lips curled around the lime wedge.

“Oh god,” Liam groaned again, for an entirely different reason this time. Zayn turned to him, and smiled his full, squinty-eyed smile. Liam was in trouble.

 

Two hours later, Liam was in even more trouble. After doing so many tequila shots at the restaurant he lost count, followed by another round of margaritas, the boys, and much of their team, walked (stumbled more like, Liam thought) next door to the large dance hall that featured a live band, and line dancing - which had currently captured Harry's full attention. He had procured (or was more likely given, as Harry lived a charmed life) a huge tan cowboy hat, that despite the rakish angle on top of his long curls, stayed put as he spun and kicked as the dance moves were called out. He was surprisingly not being hassled by any patrons, but then the youngest person outside of the One Direction crew seemed to be about 45. Several older woman were watching him with sharp eyes, but security was close by. Liam watched him spin around, then had to look away. Spinning in a circle, even watching someone else spin in a circle, made him dizzy. He looked over at Niall, who was next to the bar talking to a small group of people, not a one without a cowboy hat on, while he gestured wildly, drink in one hand. Paul stood next to him, occasionally ducking out of the way to avoid a splash of Niall's beverage.

Liam didn't want to know what story he was regaling the group with. Chances are it was either about another time he was drunk, or it was about golf. Liam looked around for Louis, and saw him heading over to the adjacent room where the mechanical bull lived. 

"Leeyum," a very drunk Zayn was hanging off Liam's arm. This is why Liam was in trouble, he thought. "Tell me again about your, your..." Zayn trailed off. 

"About my what?" Liam laughed. 

 

Zayn had admitted to being a lightweight several shots in at the restaurant.

"I smoke Liam," Zayn had said, eyes wide and too close, breath smelling of lime, with the loud whisperer of the overly inebriated, as they left the restaurant and walked next door to the dance hall. 

"I know, Zayn, we've all seen you smoke outside your bus," Liam laughed. 

"No, I mean," Zayn implored, eyes even bigger, every lash curling up impossibly, "I SMOKE."

"Oh," Liam laughed. "That's not a big deal you know.... Louis does too. A lot of people do."

"I know, but, I only drink. One drink. At a time. Or two. I don't do, shots." 

"You've never done shots?" Liam couldn't help the gentle mocking. Buzzed Zayn, or, well on his way to being drunk Zayn, was just as adorable as all the other incarnations of Zayn Liam had discovered so far. 

"NO. Yes. Yes Leeyum. I've done shots. But not a lot." Zayn stumbled slightly, and Liam caught his arm.

"Whoa there cowboy," he smiled. At that moment, Liam resolved to switch to water at the dance hall. He knew security would take care of everyone, but once again he felt a need to look out for Zayn, specifically. He tried not to think about it too hard. 

 

Now, standing in a dark corner of the dance hall, just the two of them (well, the ever present security was close by, but Liam was so used to them he could pretend they weren't there) Liam reiterated, "What do you want me to tell you?"

"About your s-services.." Zayn slurred, one hand gripped Liam's arm tightly, leaving little red indents, the other held a large goblet full of margarita. 

"My services?" Liam had several waters since arriving at their latest destination, and while still buzzed from all the shots, he had not progressed to the land of questionable decision making where the truly drunk resided.

"Life coach services," Zayn hiccuped loudly. Liam tried to smother a giggle. 

"Zayn, I told you, you can't afford my services."

"Tell me about Texas." Zayn changed topics abruptly. 

"Texas?"

"How big is Texas?"

"It's big Zayn. Very big." Liam said. Inspired, he pulled out his phone. A minute later, he grandly announced, "Zayn, Texas is so big you could fit all of Britain in there almost 3 times over."

Zayn blinked up at Liam. "Wow." he breathed. Liam giggled again. 

"America is huge, you know."

"Yeah, it is." Zayn looked thoughtful. "America is full of girls, yeah?"

"Yeah, Zayn. Like most places."

"Screaming girls?" 

"Yeah, summa 'em" Liam tried to see where Zayn was going with this train of thought.

"They scream for you, yeah?"

"They scream for One Direction."

Zayn tilted his chin up, a stubborn set to his curved upper lip. "But some of them scream just for you, yeah?"

"I suppose." 

"How do you?" Zayn demanded, tugging on Liam's arm, his other hand waving the margarita glass. Liam gently grabbed the drink out his hand and placed it on a nearby table. Zayn didn't seem to notice.

"How do you?" he repeated.

"How do I what?" Liam said gently.

Zayn waved his free arm in the air and twirled it around, as if to encompass everything and nothing all at once. "How do you... deal. With the girls. The screaming girls?"

"Oh, well, to be honest with you," Liam took a deep breath. "Screaming girls don't really interest me."

Zayn watched Liam intently. "What about screaming boys?" he said slowly, with a sudden clarity through the alcohol haze.

Liam looked at Zayn's eyes, and wondered how they could remind him of a baby deer and a fox at the same time. "Yes. Well, yes to the boys. No to the screaming. I'm more of a one person at a time... person," Liam trailed off, wincing at his lameness.

"One person boy," Zayn said slowly, like he was working through a puzzle. "One person Liam. Water?"

"Yes, let's get you a water." Before Liam had even moved security put a water bottle in his hand. "Thanks," Liam said gratefully; he decided not to take VIP areas, where buckets of alcohol, water, and anything else he could think of were readily available, for granted. The dance hall, to no one's surprise, did not have a VIP area.

"Liam!" Louis yelled, suddenly right next to Liam, "Come on, stop hiding out in the corner, it's bull time!" 

Niall and Harry were right behind him, and Liam was faced with three eager, flushed faces.

"Boys, I don't think Zayn is exactly able to ride a bull," Liam began.

"That's fine, he can watch! Come on!" Niall shouted, and grabbed Liam's arm that wasn't claimed by Zayn. 

Liam had no choice (did he ever?) but to follow the boys into the other room. The sounds of the live band and line dance caller from the main hall competed with the (very loud) country music piped in over a sound system, and the raucous noise of the sea of cowboy hats surrounding the "bull pen." In the middle of the room, under a spotlight and over a floor covered in mats, the bull sat, riderless for a moment. This room had an announcer too.

"Another rider? Another rider? Who is brave enough to conquer the bull and be declared the winner?" the faceless announcer boomed.

"This guy," Niall yelled, furiously waving both arms at Liam. 

"No, no, not me," Liam protested, gesturing to Zayn. "I need to keep an eye on Zayn."

Said Zayn looked at the bull, then looked at Liam, then back to the bull. "Ride the bull! Ride the bull!"

The other boys took up the chant. "Ride, the bull!" 

Harry gently extricated Zayn's tight grip on Liam; he leaned forward, knocking Liam's forehead with the stupid giant cowboy hat he still wore, and yelled into his ear.  
"I'll keep an eye on Zayn for you," Harry said. "I haven't had anything to drink since the restaurant." 

Liam knew when he was outnumbered. "Fine," he said. He took one last look at Zayn, who gripped Harry's arm tightly and gave Liam a thumbs up, a huge grin on his face, and eyes sparkling in the dim light. 

Liam had ridden a bull before, but he would die before he told the other boys; he had been on holiday in Florida. He reached the beast and gently tapped the saddle, then hoisted a leg up and swung it over to the other side. He looked over at the boys. To his dismay, most of their team were now standing behind Zayn and the One Direction boys.

Liam put a hand on his stomach. He had eaten a lot at dinner, but thankfully several hours had passed. Losing his dinner on top of what was likely to be a very short ride would just be the cherry on top of his sundae. Fucking ice-cream, he thought, why did it always come back to ice-cream? But what about the Baked Alaska at the restaurant Liam wondered; he hadn't partook, but it had looked so good. Would his hotel room service have some?

The blare of a horn shook Liam out of his deep dessert thoughts, and he squeezed his thighs on instinct. The bull jerked backwards, then forwards, then a stomach jolting side to side motion. Liam held on for dear life, all thoughts forgotten, other than the words "HOLD ON" echoing in his head. Everything was a blur: the lights, the music, the people surrounding the bullpen. The only thing in Liam's focus was the saddle, and the only feeling was the burn in his thighs and the swoop in his stomach. And then Liam was airborne, and his only thought was, SHIT.

He landed heavily, but not painfully, on one of the mats. Liam lay there, dazed, eyes shut, getting his bearings. He had no idea how long he had manged to stay on the bull. 

"Leeyum," a voice yelled. "Leeyum, are you ok?" Liam opened his eyes to see Zayn hovering over him, eyes glowing. Liam carefully sat up.

"I'm fine, Zayn, I'm fine, just a little dizzy but, oopmfff," Liam was cut off by Zayn tackling him in a hug, pushing him back to the mat, arms wrapped tightly around his back. 

"Liam," Zayn whispered. Then kissed him sloppily on the cheek. Liam froze. Zayn was suddenly lifted off of him, and Liam saw Paul's face. The tour manager gave Liam an unhappy look.

"Come on Zayn, let's get you some more water and then call it a night, yeah?"

Zayn nodded, swaying in place. "Liam beat the bull," he grinned. 

"Did he now," Paul frowned. Liam watched as he led Zayn away. He reached a hand up to touch his cheek where Zayn's lips had branded him.

"Come on, Payno, you cowboy," Louis grabbed Liam's arm - he turned to see Harry grabbing his other one. They led him off the mats to where Niall was holding court with their drinks.

"Looks like you aren't the only one with a crush," Niall said. 

"He was drunk, it didn't mean anything..." Liam trailed off, avoiding eye contact with the boys. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Louis said, but his usual sarcasm was absent, and he squeezed Liam's arm. 

"Alright, my turn," Niall said, and ran out into the bullpen.

Liam turned to watch, but heart wasn't into it anymore; he was thinking of concerned doe eyes and tight hugs from wiry arms covered in ink. And lips. Liam thought about wicked curved lips against his cheek, and he thought about what else he wanted from that sinful mouth.


	9. On the Road Again, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where has the time gone? Away from me, obviously. I hate waiting so long between updates, but work has been non-stop. Finally have the time to write this week, and I want to take full advantage. Thanks so much for your patience, and for continuing to follow along!

The large tour bus shuddered to a stop and Liam paused the game he was playing on his phone to look up; it was nothing but stark Texas desert and bright blue sky and a solitary truck stop.

It was the middle of the afternoon the day after the night of endless tequila and bull riding. Or, as Liam had come to think of it, the night Zayn had thrown his arms around him and kissed him in front of everyone.

On the cheek, Liam scolded himself. He had been kissed on the cheek. Like someone’s great aunt would. And Zayn had been beyond wasted. It meant nothing. And yet… Liam couldn’t stop recreating the moment in his head. Except his imagination kept getting carried away. Instead of stopping at a kiss on the cheek, in the technicolor fantasy that played out in the shrouded anonymity of Liam’s mind, Zayn slowly bent forward, body stretched out on top of Liam’s, and gently pressed his warm lips to Liam’s mouth.

After a long kiss, they broke for air, and then Liam was brave (So brave! Liam applauded his imaginary self for his bravery), and reached his right hand up to slowly run his fingers through Zayn’s hair, humming at the softness, until he cupped the back of his neck and pulled him gently, so gently forward back to his lips. Zayn licked his lips and then pressed them again to Liam’s mouth. This time Liam tilted his head and opened up his mouth to gently suck on Zayn’s bottom lip. 

Zayn let out a soft noise. “Leeyum.” He whispered. 

“LIAM,” Louis barked. Liam startled, turning from the window he had been staring at but unseeing, interrupted from his daydream. Or, day fantasy more like.

“What?” he said irritably, rubbing the top of his head, his hair curling up at the ends - he had foregone any product.

“What crawled up your ass?” Louis smacked his shoulder, but didn’t move, and Liam knew better than to ignore him.

“Nothing, sorry, just tired.”

“Well, get off ya tired ass and come join us. They said three more hours till New Orleans.”

Liam stood up and stretched. Louis moved forward and put an arm around his shoulder. “You ok, mate?” his voice was soft.

“Yeah, m’fine,” Liam smiled. He looked at Louis, who was giving him his patented, concerned big brother look. “Just in me head a bit.”

“Can’t imagine what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout,” Louis laughed and squeezed his hold around Liam’s shoulder tighter. “C’mon, let’s get some snacks.”

Liam wasn’t really hungry, but he picked up Red Bull and chips anyway. He looked around the convenience store, which looked like every other American truck stop he had ever been at. He walked over to where the boys were surrounding a display full of novelty sunglasses and hats.

“Where’s Zayn?” he asked, before he could help himself.

“Haven’t seen him,” Harry said, trying on a pair of sunglasses with sparkly blue frames in the shape of stars. He turned to Niall, who was wearing a pink cowboy hat, who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Harry smiled and started examining the vast array of cowboy hats. Liam tried to imagine a petrol station in London selling cowboy hats and could not.

“He’s probably sleeping off a wicked hangover, boy can’t handle his liquor,” Niall said to Liam, as he exchanged the pink hat for a camo cowboy hat. 

“Ugh, take that off,” Louis said. “Here, put THIS one on.” He put a white cowboy hat with little cows around the brim on top of the camo one, not giving Niall a chance to take off the first hat. 

“No, this one,” Harry said, stacking on a black cowboy hat. 

Liam could see where this was going; he grabbed a straw hat, placed carefully on the growing pile atop Niall’s head, and walked away from the boys, listening to Niall chanting “More hats boys! Higher!”

Liam realized he was smiling, despite himself; nothing like the boys being their ridiculous selves to cheer him up. They filled up such a large part of his life that his constant worry and anxieties could never take over for too long - the boys always helped him live in the moment, even if they didn’t realize what they were doing helped Liam in ways both big and small. Liam felt a wave of fondness so strong he gave an involuntary shudder.

He turned around and skidded back down the aisle, grabbing all three of them in a tight hug.

“Ooof, damnit Liam,” Niall said into his shoulder as his tower of hats fell off. 

“Love you boys,” Liam said, ignoring their protests. “Just had to say it.”

“Fuck off with your mush,” Louis said, but he squeezed Liam so tightly he could barely draw a breath. And then Harry lost his balance and they all fell down in a pile of laughter and hats. Liam hit his elbow on the way down and didn’t even care, he was giggling so hard. 

Several minutes and the purchase of several cowboy hats later, Liam stood nervously in front of Zayn’s bus. He had bought the cowboy hat that was white and had a ribbon around the brim with little cows on it; he was wearing it and held a bag full of gatorade, water, and chex mix, in addition to his chips and Red Bull. He had vague thoughts that Zayn needed to be hydrated, but was now seconding guessing himself. Before he could change his mind, he pushed open the door and stepped up, heading towards the back of the bus.

When he walked into the lounge area Liam was surprised to see Zayn not only awake but moving around. He was standing next to a record player and was carefully moving the needle onto a vinyl. He was wearing a hoodie and sweats and his hair looked damp like he had taken a shower recently. He looked up and saw Liam.

“Hey,” Zayn said, voice scratchy. 

Liam paused, he had intended on leaving the drinks, along with the cowboy hat, and making a quick exit, he hadn’t been prepared for Zayn to be awake. A small part of him wanted to ask Zayn about the hug and kiss, but courage, and words failed him.

“Hey,” was all Liam managed to get out. 

Zayn raised an eyebrow and looked mildly disdainful. His trademark, Liam thought. “Nice hat.”

“Uh, thanks,” Liam felt foolish. “We sorta had to buy some hats after crushing them.”

“Crushing?”

“We fell on them.”

“Ah,” Zayn said, as if that was all the explanation needed. Well, he had met the boys for more than five minutes, that probably didn’t need any further explanation. 

“I brought you some stuff, wasn’t sure if you had recovered?” Liam handed over the bag with the drinks, Zayn took it from him, fingers brushing his, and offered a small smile.

“Thanks Leeyum,” he said, opening it up to look inside. He looked back up. “This was nice of you.”

“Ah, well, we’ve all been there, and I didn’t know if you were going to sleep through the stop...” Liam found himself fiddling with the cowboy hat, then realized what he was doing, and took it off his head, putting it down on the nearby couch. 

Zayn smirked at him and sat down. He gestured to the space next to himself. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

“Well, I should be getting back to my bus before we head out,” Liam said, just as the bus roared to life and began to move.

“Looks like you’re trapped with me now,” Zayn smiled at him. “You really should get comfortable. Did they say how long until New Orleans?”

“Three hours or so,” Liam said, while inside his head was racing with the idea of spending three hours on a bus with Zayn. “Are you still hungover?”

Zayn simply nodded and opened one of the bottles from the bag and took a swig. Liam realized that music was playing from the record player. “I know this song, what is it called?”

“It’s Killing Me Softly,” Zayn stood up and walked over to player; he lifted the needle and started the song again from the beginning. “Roberta Flack did the original, this is the Fugees version, with Lauryn Hill. It’s a sick song. And now I can prove to you that vinyl really does have a more warm sound. ”

Liam nodded, and listened as Zayn began to sing along, voice still raspy, but somehow that only added to the appeal. 

“Killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words,” Zayn sang, casual as anything, not even sitting up straight on the couch, neck tilted back. Liam watched him, envious that everything Zayn did looked so effortless.

“You look so effortless,” Liam said, then realized that his filter was just not on tight enough when it came to the boy singing in front of him. 

Zayn smiled, but kept singing. When the chorus came up, he looked at Liam, “Join in!”

Liam shook his head, feeling bashful.

“C’mon now, don’t leave me hanging, I know you aren’t shy when it comes to singing” Zayn’s eyes crinkled up, and he smiled with his teeth. 

Liam smiled back and joined in. “Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words.”

He changed his notes on the last chorus, going higher to better harmonize with Zayn, and they grinned at each other as the song ended.

“When I’ve watched you on stage you always change up the harmonies, too. You have a really good ear.”

“Thanks,” Liam said. “The boys make it easy to harmonize with. Same with you. It’s not hard when you already sound so good and hit all the notes.”

“You never give yourself enough credit, do ya?” Zayn said. He was playing with the string of his hoodie and giving Liam one of his intense looks. 

“I’m in a band, Zayn, it’s not just about me, you know? I have to blend in.”

“Well I think you stand out, no contest,” Zayn said. He stood up abruptly and walked over to the record player. “What do you want to hear?”

Liam had been in One Direction for years, he had plenty of praise thrown his way, but when it came from fellow musicians he never knew how to take it. He knew Zayn wasn’t taking the piss out of him, but he also couldn’t fully believe it, either. 

Liam knew the roles everyone played in the band. Harry was Mick Jagger incarnate, Niall was the most musical and lovable, and Louis, his trusted songwriting partner, was the fierce kitten who had fans eating out of his hand, and - just as importantly - had found his confidence and voice over the last couple tours and albums. 

But he knew exactly how he was viewed: solid vocalist, the hype man who worked hard to engage the crowd. He worked out, but somehow was still considered more cute than hot. If there was one word that he would sum himself up with it would be: consistent. And consistent was just that: consistent. Reliable. It wasn’t sexy, or mysterious, or exciting. And sometimes Liam pushed at the boundaries of what that entailed - he would party harder than he should, or gave less than his full attention to a bad interview (but never, never gave less than his all on stage), or he would push back on management. But in the end he always returned to the middle, to the consistency that coursed through everything he did.

“I’m consistent,” he said, ignoring Zayn’s inquiry as to whom to play next.

“What are you on about?” Zayn said, deftly flipping over the record in his hands and starting up the needle. The strains of Claudia Lennear’s What’d I Do Wrong drifted over the bus, and Liam was transported back to watching Zayn sing his chosen cover song on stage - his fuck you to management song, as Liam thought of the tune.

“I don’t stand out, I do blend in. That’s my role in the band. I’m consistent.”

“Hmmm, well, here’s what I think,” Zayn said, settling back on the couch, much closer than before, knees bumping into Liam. His dark eyes assessed Liam. “I think you are consistent. Consistently good. Really, really good. You consistently have an amazing voice, you consistently work so hard to get the crowd going, you consistently support and draw attention to the other boys and the band, lifting everyone up. And, you consistently wear shirts that show off your arms to your advantage, so there’s that, too.”

Liam lost track of how many times Zayn said the word consistent. He lost track of how much blood rushed to his face. He could only focus on the words to the song in the background - ‘I’d show you that I love you so many ways.’ He could only focus on Zayn’s eyes. Until he couldn't anymore. He looked away. He focused on the scenery rushing by the window, a blur of blue sky and brown fields. He felt exposed and raw and seen. Really, truly seen. It was unsettling. And Liam, who so rarely found himself in this situation, was at a loss for words. 

Zayn punched his shoulder gently. “None of that, no more compliments for you. Don’t want your head getting any bigger. Let’s say we watch a movie and maybe take a nap, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Liam mumbled, still unable to meet Zayn’s eyes. 

“What do you want to watch?”

“Whatcha got?” Liam said, finally looking up, now that his face was back to it’s normal temperature and they were back on safer ground. 

“How’s the latest Marvel movie sound?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright then,” Zayn started the movie and came back to the couch, this time pushing himself right against Liam, nestling his head against Liam’s shoulder while hitting play on the movie. Liam wished he could have just a fraction of Zayn's confidence. 

As the opening credits started, Liam remembered the entire reason he came on to the bus in the first place: to ask Zayn if he remembered the drunken hug and tequila-infused kiss on the cheek from the previous night. He stayed silent, but focused on the warmth of Zayn’s body, the softness of his hoodie against his neck, and the citrus scent of his still damp hair, as well as the feel of his own pulse, beating in time to the gentle swaying of the bus.

 

Liam woke up some time later to the sound of laughter. Before he even opened his eyes he knew what was about to happen.

“So precious, take another one,” Louis laughed. Niall’s distinctive laugh was next, followed by Harry’s giggle. Liam cracked open one eye, finding all three boys hovering over him, phones out and furiously taking photos. 

Zayn was asleep with his head in Liam’s lap, curled up on his side. Liam had fallen asleep slumped over Zayn, with his arm wrapped securely around the other boy’s shoulder and back. 

“Go away,” Liam groaned. He needed to get up, before Zayn woke up and he died of embarrassment, but he also didn’t want to move ever again. 

“You got to wake up for the graveyard,” Harry said while he took another photo, crouching down like he was an actual photographer trying to get a more artistic angle. 

“Graveyard?” Liam said. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“We booked a graveyard tour. They normally only do them during the day, but they’re doing one at night for us!” Niall said.

“You lot are fucking insane,” Zayn mumbled.

“And he’s awake ladies and gents,” Louis said. “You’re coming too, Zayn.”

Zayn lifted his head, and Liam reluctantly removed his arm and sat up. “I’m not going on a fucking graveyard tour in New Orleans in the dark.”

“Famous last words Zayn, now, don’t move,” and Louis shoved two cowboy hats on top of Liam and Zayn’s heads while Harry snapped away. “Smile boys!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: the graveyard Tour!


	10. The Ghosts of New Orleans Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in less than 24 hours! The things I can get done when I actually have a day off! Please enjoy and thank you again for continuing to follow along. :)

Liam stood outside the entrance to the cemetery, craning his neck to look up at the night sky. The moon was huge and full and hung low; it almost looked fake, like a painted backdrop of a moon, an exact facsimile. He couldn’t see any stars - they were in the middle of the city after all. New Orleans, much like New York, Liam thought, was a city that had its own distinct magic. It was like no where else - from it’s mix of bawdy entertainment to historical sites to the food to the people themselves, New Orleans was its own rare beast.

Case in point, where else would a midnight cemetery tour with his boys, some of the band, and security be possible? Liam looked at Zayn, standing next to him, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face, but Liam knew better at this point - he could tell by the way Zayn kept shifting his weight from left to right, swaying slightly while biting his lower lip, that he wasn’t thrilled to be on the tour. Liam had watched him chain smoke three cigarettes on the walk over from the hotel. Now, Zayn furiously chewed gum and crossed and re-crossed his arms, his leather jacket making soft noises over the voice of their guide.

“Ok, everyone got that?” 

Their guide (call me Beau, short for Beauregard!) finished his run down of dos and don’ts. 

“Got it,” everyone mumbled. Liam gently grabbed Zayn’s arm, pulling him back while everybody else walked through the entrance.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to, we can bunk off? Go back to the hotel, or find a place to get a drink, yeah?”

Zayn looked up, face illuminated by moonlight, casting deep shadows on his already sharp cheekbones. His eyes looked huge in the exaggerated angles of his face. Something about him looked almost specter-like, as if Zayn himself had wandered down the city streets, straight out of a ghost story about a man out of time, and happened to stumble across their little group.

Liam shook himself; the atmosphere of the city was starting to affect his thoughts. Zayn blinked and shook his head.

“No, I want to go. Not a fan of the dark, s’all.” Zayn looked down at the ground at his last admittance.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stick together, yeah?” Liam grabbed Zayn’s hand left hand in his right and smiled in as reassuring a manner as he could, whilst on the inside his heart was doing double time. He didn’t know if it was the darkness or the adrenaline of doing the tour, but he felt reckless. He noted how Zayn’s hand was more slender and his palm a bit smaller, and yet they fit. Liam hadn’t touched his hand since the day they met at soundcheck at the Garden, and he marveled at how far they had come since Zayn’s cool brushoff of him that day - how much more comfortable he was around him since they had spent time together and had gotten to know each other.

Zayn quirked his lips and gave Liam’s hand a squeeze, and together they walked through the entrance, following behind the group.

The tour was truly interesting. Liam listened to the guide explain the history behind various markers, statues, and monuments. This particular graveyard held the tombstone where a famous scene from the old movie Easy Rider was filmed (“Imagine dropping acid here all while being filmed,” Beau enthused. Liam tried to imagine and shuddered), as well as the supposed permanent future resting place of one Nicholas Cage.

“The IRS seized his houses, but, because of the law, they couldn’t take his plot since it was already paid for, ” Beau said. “He paid over a million dollars to purchase this spot.”

“But why a pyramid? It reeks of the Illuminati!” Niall said, the group arranged in a semi-circle around the very new- looking and ostentatious pyramid marker that contrasted sharply with the older, crumbling stones around it. 

“Have you SEEN National Treasure?” Beau asked. Everyone shook their head no. 

“What?” their guide looked shocked. “None of you? Everyone watch that movie as soon as possible.”

Liam stood with Zayn at the back of the group. The cemetery was surprisingly narrow and crowded with graves practically stacked on top of each other; there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver. Beau had explained that during the day there were so many tours going on simultaneously that groups often had to pause to let each other pass. But in the middle of the night, with their group being the only one inside the tall walls that shut out the outside world, their voices seemed to echo amidst the hush of the rest of the graveyard; it was eerie, as if they were intruders upon a sacred space that didn’t belong to them. Zayn seemed to pick up on Liam’s macabre thoughts, inching closer, their hands still joined, until their shoulders were brushing against each other and Liam could feel Zayn’s body heat.

Beau told a story about graves upended by the rain and swampy terrain of the city, especially as parts of the city went to sea level or lower, and in the past coffins had floated down the streets after one cemetery flooded. Liam tried to picture water rushing down city streets carrying a veritable wave of coffins, and he shivered.

“Leeyum, I don’t like this much,” Zayn breathed into his ear. Liam shivered again- he knew the cause this time was the feeling of Zayn being so close, and had nothing to do with their surroundings or the creepy scene Beau was describing. Liam let go of Zayn’s hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulder instead, gripping tightly and pulling him in close. 

“You know I got ya ” Liam turned towards Zayn, and before he could over think it, he leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead. He pulled back, blushing slightly, but not regretting his impulsive decision. 

“Can we get out of here?” Zayn asked quietly, looking up at Liam, pupils dilating in the moonlight.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Liam said, pulse pounding and palms suddenly sweaty.

He reluctantly let go of Zayn and stepped over to security, letting them know they were headed back to the hotel. There was a brief, heated discussion about the question of letting the boys go unaccompanied, but Liam stood firm and insisted they were headed straight back, their hotel only a few blocks away. 

Liam saw Harry wink at him, and Niall gave a very indiscreet thumbs up, but other than that the pair of them were left to their own devices as they made a quick exit, winding their way back through the the pale markers to the entrance. Liam breathed a sigh of relief as they walked down the city sidewalk, and he saw Zayn visibly relax as well.

“Well that was creepy as fuck,” Zayn muttered. “I like scary movies, but that was too much.”

“Oh I don’t know, the history was interesting,” Liam smiled. He reached for Zayn’s hand, grabbing it and swinging it back and forth between them as they walked. “Maybe our next free night we can schedule a midnight swamp and gator tour instead? Really get to know how the locals live, ya know? ” 

Zayn snorted and bumped his shoulder against Liam, but didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m sure the majority of the locals avoid the swamps and gators, except for the people actually giving the tours.”

“Either way,” Liam said. He looked up at the moon again, still huge, and then at Zayn. There was nowhere in the entire world he’d rather be at the moment, then holding Zayn’s hand and looking for ghosts around every corner in this haunted southern city. Liam sang under his breath:

“I’ve been around the world, I’ve seen a lot a lot of girls  
I’ve been a lot of places, I’ve seen a lot of faces  
Nobody does this like you.”

“Are you… are you actually singing one of my songs to me?” Zayn laughed. 

“I’m your biggest fan, you know,” Liam said, smiling as they walked. 

“Got my pictures all over your wall, yeah? “ Zayn said slyly. 

“Had your photo for my phone background before I’d even met you,” Liam said, going for broke. Zayn pulled him to a stop and gently pushed him against the nearest wall. The street they were on was quiet. Liam could hear revelry and noise in the distance, but it was a block or two away. On this street it was just him, Zayn, and the moon. 

“Is that so?” Zayn said, pressing his chest against Liam’s, until they were melded together against the wall, the cool stone of the wall and the firmness of Zayn’s chest the only thing keeping Liam from falling to his knees, from falling apart at the seams. “Which photo was it?”

“I changed it up,” Liam said hoarsely, his hand that wasn’t entwined with Zayn’s reaching up to brush the hair that had fallen across his forehead off his face. Zayn simply blinked and Liam ran his fingers through his hair again, then gently traced down the side of his jaw, then his neck, and followed the lines of his collar bones. “The last one I had was the one where your hair is silver. You’re wearing a blue shirt. I can see your tattoos. I can’t remember which magazine it was for - ” Liam stopped talking, caught up in Zayn’s expression.

“I can beat that, “ Zayn said. He leaned forward and whispered in Liam’s ear. “I’ve touched myself thinking of you.”

“Zayn,” Liam moaned out Zayn’s name, but he couldn’t even feel embarrassment.

Instead, he felt hot all over. He remembered the first time he saw Zayn in person; he remembered standing close to him in Chicago underneath The Bean; he remembered the times they had sat next to each other - in hotel beds and on tour buses, and the night they slept next to each other on the floor. And just earlier in the day when they had fallen asleep on the couch on Zayn's bus and woken up wrapped around each other. Liam remembered it all and felt like everything had been swiftly moving forward towards this moment - like a train barrelling down the tracks with nothing in it's path to slow it down. 

“You touched yourself… what were you thinking about? How did you touch yourself?” Liam felt his pants grow tight - why was he wearing jeans?

Zayn pressed himself closer, he was also wearing jeans. Liam could feel the hard line of him against his thigh. He closed his eyes and gently pushed back, rubbing himself against Zayn’s thigh.

“The first time I touched myself thinking of you was when you did that shirtless photo shoot last year, the one where you wore black sweats? I could see the outline of your dick.” 

As Zayn talked he pushed back in tandem with Liam, one leg shoved between Liam’s thighs, so they were slowly rubbing against each other. Liam was fully hard now, between the delicious pressure of Zayn's leg and the sound of his voice and his explicit words. 

“I could tell you were big. You weren’t even hard, or not very hard, and it was so obvious how big you were,” Zayn leaned forward and gently sucked on Liam’s neck.

“Zayn,” Liam started panting. Zayn leaned back but didn’t stop moving his hips forward against Liam. 

“I remember coming so hard looking at that photo,” Zayn leaned forward again, this time biting down gently over where he had been licking Liam’s neck.

“Fuck, ahh… ” Liam whimpered.

“You remember that night in the hotel in Chicago when you showed me your sketchbook and we listened to music, yeah?” Zayn said as he stopped moving his hips and instead ran his hand along the waistband of Liam’s jeans, dipping lower to slowly stroke over the bulge of his cock. Liam felt every stroke of Zayn’s fingers and he felt himself grow even harder. He didn't think that was possible. He was so excited now, he was barely cognizant of the fact they were in public.

“I was hard that entire time. Being right next you, in bed, you were shirtless. I kept trying not to look down at your cock, I could see it through your sweats then. You didn’t even know the effect you were having on me. The minute I got back to my room I had to touch myself. I was so tired but it didn’t matter.” 

“Zayn,” Liam moaned again. Zayn abruptly stood back and grabbed Liam’s hand. “Come on, the hotel's right down the street.”

Liam wordlessly followed him along the sidewalk, willing his erection to go down. Zayn just marched them determinedly forward - down the sidewalk, into the hotel lobby, and in to the elevator. Once the doors had shut and they were alone, Zayn pushed Liam back against the elevator wall until they were chest to chest again. Zayn kept talking as if there had been no pause in their conversation.

“In Chicago I got back into my room and before I had even shut my door I had my hands down my pants. I wrapped my hand around my cock - but I imagined it was your hand. I imagined that you held your hand out and I put each of your fingers in my mouth -” Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and slowly put his index finger in his mouth, sucking down until he had Liam’s entire finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Liam could feel the wet warmth of Zayn’s mouth and the feel of his lips around his knuckle, and he felt a jolt in his stomach. Zayn slowly sucked off Liam’s finger and then pulled it out of his mouth and continued “-and when I was done with your fingers I licked your palm, before you reached down and wrapped your hand around me.”

The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors opened. This time Liam grabbed Zayn’s hand and almost dragged him down the hallway in his haste to get to his room. He pulled out the room key, pushed it in, and almost slammed the door open pulling Zayn behind him. 

Once in the room he didn’t bother turning on a light, but pulled Zayn over next to the bed. He quickly took off shoes, with his jeans and shirts following. He watched as Zayn did the same, until they were both standing there, Liam in his black boxer briefs and Zayn in his dark green ones. Liam was still panting, so turned on he felt like he would combust, like he was on fire. This was actually happening, him and Zayn. 

Liam took a deep breath and reached for Zayn.


	11. Let's Get Naked and Explore Our Inner Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience as I update! Every comment and kudos keeps me going, truly. Enjoy this next chapter - things are heating up. ;)

The window that looked out over the street of their hotel had long curtains that hadn’t been fully shut. Light from the moon shone through in long streaks, illuminating Zayn’s shoulders and chest, making his tattoos look like they were jumping off his skin. Liam looked his fill for a moment, admiring Zayn’s shoulder to waist ratio, which was almost as ridiculous as his impossibly long eyelashes. 

Liam took a deep breath and reached for Zayn, putting his hands around that narrow waist. They still hadn’t properly kissed. 

“Zayn, I really want this. You. I want you.” Liam stopped talking, licked his lips, bent forward, and finally (finally) put his lips on Zayn’s mouth, just like he had fantasized. But this was actually happening, and as cliche as it sounded - even in Liam’s own head - reality was so much better than any fantasy.

The first kiss was relatively chaste - mouths closed and with space between their bodies. Zayn’s lips were soft and felt really, really good. Liam pulled back, lips buzzing and head full of static. Zayn reached up and gently shoved him until he was up against the bed. 

“C’mon, c’mon” Zayn teased, pushing Liam again so he fell back against the bed, back landing on the soft duvet. Zayn, looking like a jungle cat on the prowl, followed, crawling over Liam’s body until his legs straddled Liam’s hips.

“You are right fit,” Zayn said, as he lowered himself down. 

Liam let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He ran his hands up and down Zayn’s back, feeling the sleek planes of lean muscle. One hand cupped the back of Zayn’s neck again, and Liam thrilled to the fact that he could do that now; he had the privilege to touch Zayn all over, and in the most intimate of ways. He ran his hands down until he reached Zayn’s briefs, then he gently squeezed the curve of his ass.

Zayn giggled, and shifted on top of Liam, causing them to brush against each other. 

“Leeyum,” Zayn softly moaned, and shifted again. “I hardly have an ass to grab.”

Liam grinned, looking up at Zayn, who met his gaze with dark eyes and a small smile. 

“It’s enough for me,” he shrugged.

Liam pulled Zayn down into another kiss. This time the kiss was more heated. Liam kept squeezing Zayn’s ass, firming up his grip until Zayn gasped into his mouth. Liam took advantage and gently licked the seam of his mouth, then sucked hard on his lower lip. Zayn pushed into Liam’s mouth with his tongue, searching - Liam groaned, deep in his throat, and let Zayn slowly explore his mouth. It was warm and wet and wonderful, and Liam tilted his head to let Zayn push in deeper.

Liam could feel their chests pressed together, Zayn’s smooth chest rubbing up against the friction of his chest hair; their legs were tangled together, and through their briefs he could feel the warmth of Zayn’s hardness.

“Leeyum,” Zayn gasped, finally pulling back and breaking the kiss. He leaned forward and licked the shell of Liam’s ear, then tugged gently on it. 

“I told you how I touched myself," Zayn whispered, breath warm over Liam's ear. "You ever touch yourself thinking of me?”

Liam could feel his face flush in the moonlight that shone through the break in the curtains. He turned his head towards the light, looking at the quaint rooftop, scalloped in wrought iron, framed by the window, while he tried to ground the thoughts in his head and the heat coursing through his body. He turned back towards Zayn and the warm cocoon their bodies created.

“Yeah,” he breathed, squirming as Zayn moved from his ear down to his neck, alternating licking and sucking. “Yeah I thought about you.” 

Zayn seemed to really like the spot by his birthmark, sucking hard and causing Liam’s hips to buck up. 

“Thought about me how,” Zayn said, moving lower onto Liam’s chest. 

Liam didn’t answer for a moment, focused on Zayn circling his nipples with his tongue before closing his mouth around the hard nub and sucking.

“Thought about you… thought about you naked and in bed with me,” Liam managed to get out. 

Zayn bit down on a nipple.

“Ahh, god,” Liam groaned, biting his lower lip to keep a litany of nonsense words from escaping his mouth. 

“Naked in bed? Kinky motherfucker,” Zayn laughed, looking up. He licked his lips, then went back down to the other nipple. He licked, sucked, then bit down again. 

“Ahh, ah, yes, “ Liam felt his hips lift of the bed, and he groaned, louder, feeling his stomach tighten and his ass clench. 

“Sensitive, hmm…” Zayn said, seemingly to himself. 

Liam watched him return to the first nipple, which felt hot and tight. He bit down again. 

“Ah, Zayn, feels so good,” Liam practically keened, and felt his cock spurt wetness.

“Do you ever play with your nipples?” Zayn wondered, licking the tender nub, and then biting down, harder this time.

It felt like too much, Liam almost couldn’t handle it. “Hurts, it hurts,” he protested weakly as his hands tightly grasped the duvet, searching for an anchor to the pain and heat and arousal radiating from his nipples.

“It hurts, babe?” Zayn stopped and looked up, gaze concerned.

“Hurts, but good,” Liam panted out. Every time Zayn sucked or bit down, Liam felt a jolt in his stomach; his dick would twitch, blurting out more wetness, and he felt more and more keyed up. 

Zayn moved down to his briefs, and without ceremony pulled them down to Liam's thighs, exposing his flushed cock to the cool room. Zayn stroked up and down a couple times, before gently tugging on the foreskin. Liam groaned again.

“You’re so wet babe,” Zayn said, pulling down Liam’s foreskin, exposing the shiny head, then pulling up again.

“Sorry,” Liam said nonsensically, groaning at Zayn’s firm touch. “Always get really wet.”

“Nah, it's hot,” Zayn said. “I like that you’re so responsive. Makes my job easy. Also, I get off on seeing how much you like it. Look.”

Zayn let go of Liam long enough to get up on his knees and pull off his own briefs, which he tossed over the edge of the bed, before leaning forward and divesting Liam of his briefs as well. 

Liam watched, heart pounding and biting on his lip, as Zayn took his long, flushed cock in hand and slowly stroked up and down. He was so hard, his cock was a bright red, the tip shiny and perfect. 

“I want to blow you,” Liam said, just as Zayn said, “Let me blow you, yeah?”

They both laughed, and Liam watched as Zayn giggled, his head thrown back, exposing his elegant throat, as he continued to stroke his own cock, pace steady and deliberate. 

Liam spoke first. “Do you want to..” He didn’t know why he was getting shy now that they were both fully naked and hard. He tried again. “Same time? To each other?”

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s - let’s do that,” Zayn, said, nose crinkled with the width of his smile. He twisted and shifted down the bed, stomach muscles flexing as Liam swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry. Zayn’s scooted down the bed until his mouth was level with Liam’s cock. Liam looked at the blocky, heart-shaped tattoo on Zayn's stomach and reached out a finger to trace the outline, before he realized what he was doing. 

“Do you want to get on top?” Liam asked, “Since I’m heavier?”

Zayn slowly looked up and down Liam’s body, considering, and Liam still felt shy, but so turned on he was getting impatient with it. He needed Zayn in his mouth now. 

“No, let’s do it like this - on our sides, facing each other, yeah?” 

Zayn didn’t wait for an answer, but leaned in, resting on one arm, while his other arm reached forward - strong fingers gently gripped Liam’s cock by the base; Liam watched Zayn lick his lips while his stomach clenched in anticipation. He followed Zayn’s lead and licked his own lips, before leaning forward and slowly stroking Zayn up and down. He looked back down his body, just in time to see Zayn lick his cock from base to tip, and then repeat the motion. The wet sensation on his flushed cock, coupled with the visual of seeing Zayn’s pink tongue caress his shaft caused Liam to let out a noise between a groan and a whine. 

“Feels so good, Zayn.” 

Zayn looked down towards Liam. “Yeah? We haven’t even gotten started yet,” he smirked. 

Then Liam was enveloped in warm, wet heat as Zayn took him down to the root in one practiced motion. 

Liam’s hips jerked and he gasped. “Uh god, Zayn, oh my god.”

Zayn didn’t let up, lifting off only to take Liam’s cock down again, sucking harder this time, his tongue swirling around the tip as he came up.

“Zayn, god, look at you. You look so hot, fuck. Fuck - you’re so good,” Liam panted, feeling his chest expand as he tried to take a deep breath; his hips shifted forward, chasing the scorching heat of Zayn’s wet mouth. He could feel himself getting even more wet.

Liam felt a swirl of jealousy and arousal thinking of the other people Zayn surely must have practiced on to become this good at taking cock - unless he naturally didn’t have a gag reflex, Liam wondered. Liam stopped wondering when he felt the soft muscles at the back of Zayn’s throat swallow around his swollen head, and he almost came right then.

Zayn pulled off, but kept stroking up and down Liam’s shaft as he looked down his chest. “Thought this was a two-way street, yeah? Why am I the only one working?” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head, but smiled as he kept up a steady stroke on Liam’s cock.

Liam startled out of his aroused haze. “They don’t call it a blow JOB for nothing,” he giggled.

“Dork,” Zayn said, shaking his head and smiling, while he inched his hips closer to Liam.

“I can take a hint,” Liam laughed, gently smacking Zayn’s hip before he grasped his cock, felt the hot velvety smoothness and then swallowed down. He couldn’t deep throat like Zayn, but he went down as far as he could, more than halfway, and felt the weight on his tongue, tasted the saltiness of skin, and had a sudden flashback to taking tequila shots with Zayn back in Texas. 

Liam giggled to himself, causing his mouth to tighten, and he forced his throat to relax so he could take Zayn deeper.

“Fuck Liam, you look amazing, “ Zayn groaned. “Those lips. Your lips are fucking - fucking obscene. Been thinking about you doing this since the first time I saw your mouth.”

Liam felt his hips flex again. He needed to come, he’d been turned on for so long, and hearing Zayn’s words only made him more desperate. 

Liam pulled off and started laughing. “We are the worst. We can’t even sixty-nine properly - we’re just watching each other.”

Zayn grinned down at him, tongue sticking out. “Can’t help it babe. Those lips, your mouth…I can’t not watch.”

Liam smiled. “Same, I just want to watch, too.” 

“Ok, let’s make a bet then.”

“A bet?”

Zayn licked his lips. “Just a friendly bet. If I can get you to come first, you owe me.”

“And if I can get you to come first, you owe me?”

“Exactly.”

Liam leaned down and slowly licked Zayn’s cock, enjoying the way it twitched in his hand. “What would the loser owe?”

“Hmm,” Zayn said. “Sexual favor of the winner’s choosing?”

“Done.” Liam wasted no time and took Zayn’s cock back in his mouth, licking his way down.

“Hey, cheater!” Zayn yelped, and then Liam heard no more as he felt Zayn’s mouth wrap around his head and gently lick along his foreskin.

Liam groaned, his mouth full, as he continued to suck down. Having Zayn in his mouth while he was in Zayn’s mouth, nothing but heat and wetness and his pulse in his ears, drove Liam almost out of his mind with pleasure. 

He felt Zayn let go of his cock, while his mouth continued to take him deep, and then he felt Zayn grip his thigh and lift up. Liam was confused for a moment - he felt Zayn place his leg back down so his foot was on the bed, but his knee was pointing up towards the ceiling, creating a gap. He looked down his body to see Zayn pull off his cock for a moment and suck on his own finger - then he reached around and slowly circled his finger around Liam’s hole while taking his cock back in his mouth.

Liam knew what was coming, but knowing did not prepare him. Zayn slowly pressed his finger in, and Liam felt the wetness and pressure - Zayn’s nose was brushing his stomach and his finger was pushing in and out of Liam’s tight hole. Liam eagerly pushed back, trying to get Zayn’s finger deeper, then eagerly pushed forward, trying to feel all of Zayn’s hot wet mouth. 

He couldn’t stop watching the obscene stretch of Zayn’s lips around his cock, and he couldn’t stop wanting to be stretched out more himself. 

Liam pulled off Zayn, he couldn't focus.

"Fuck, Zayn - fuck that's it." Liam moaned. 

Zayn moved his finger faster, and moved his mouth up and down Liam's cock, which felt so heavy and swollen Liam moaned again.

"I want you to fuck me. Will you fuck me? Please Zayn, fuck."

He fucked himself back on Zayn’s finger until he felt the knuckle push through his rim, and then Zayn swallowed around his swollen head and Liam felt himself come hard, then come hard again, and he kept coming. And Zayn took it all, swallowing down around a long moan, muffled by Liam’s cock.

Liam blinked, he didn’t remember closing his eyes. In front of him, Zayn’s cock hung hard and heavy. Liam was somehow still not satiated, even after coming as hard as he had. It was like he was a fire, and the flame kept burning steady, refusing to be extinguished. 

He sat up and twisted around, pushing Zayn, who was wiping his mouth - and fuck, that was hot - down on his back, wide eyes looking up at Liam, who couldn’t stop looking at his swollen mouth. 

“Fuck, Zayn, that was, amazing. Your mouth,” Liam leaned down and kissed Zayn, long and wet. Zayn opened his mouth and Liam licked in. He could taste himself on Zayn’s tongue.

Liam pulled off and slid down Zayn’s body, stopping to lick at the ink on his chest and suck on his nipples; then he gripped Zayn’s hip with one hand and sucked down his cock. Liam swallowed as far as he could, while using his hand to twist around the rest, keeping everything wet and slick and warm while trying to get Zayn off.

“Oh god. Liam. Fuck- I’m gonna come. Fuck, gonna come in your mouth babe.” 

Zayn arched his hips and Liam opened his throat as wide as he could as felt Zayn come. He started to choke and pulled off; the last hot streaks of come landed on his lips and ran down his chin. 

Zayn looked up, mouth open and eyes dazed. He looked at Liam’s lips.

“Fuck, Leeyum. Your mouth, I can’t.” Zayn pulled Liam down and traced his lips with his finger, spreading the warm come all over. Then he leaned forward and slowly licked it off. 

Liam felt faint. 

Zayn leaned back and collapsed on the bed, eyes closed. He started giggling.

“What’s so funny,” Liam said, lying down next to him. Liam thought he might never move again.

“I won,” Zayn crowed. “You came first.”

Liam just shook his head. “It was worth it. Didn’t feel like losing.”

“Such a sap,” Zayn giggled, but he squeezed Liam’s hand in his own, and turned towards him. Sweaty and satiated, Liam sank into the bed, sank into Zayn, and sank into the moment.

 

Liam woke up slowly. He stretched, eyes still closed, and groaned. He felt warm and loose, and so, so relaxed.

He heard a muffled protest. Zayn was curled up next to him, one hand resting on Liam’s stomach, his head on Liam’s chest, and a leg thrown over his thigh.

“Hey there,” Liam said softly, reaching down to run his fingers through that thick hair. Sunlight filtered through the cracked curtains, it was going to be a beautiful day in New Orleans, and Liam smiled at his good fortune.

Until the next moment, when a loud knock sounded on their door. Liam turned to Zayn, confused.

“I thought we didn’t have to be on call until this afternoon - “ he started to say but was interrupted by a voice on the other side.

"You boys decent? I'm coming in." It was Paul. The tour manager did not sound happy.

Zayn looked at Liam, eyes wide. 

"It's ok, we'll handle this," Liam reassured Zayn, but inside he felt panic rise in his stomach. It was not going to be pleasant.


	12. We've Come to the End of the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! Thank you again to everyone who left lovely comments and kudos - I could not have completed this without your encouragement and support!!  
> I went back and added titles to all the chapters, it helped me keep track of where the boys were on the road/tour if that makes sense.  
> And yes, I purposely changed up Liam's tattoo for reasons. :)  
> This fic means a lot to me, and I hope anyone reading it can find some enjoyment as well.

A hotel room in New Orleans:

 

Liam felt exposed. Paul had seen him shirtless countless times over the years. Many of their staff had seen him in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs; the stylists and his band mates even less. And yet, sitting on a hotel bed next to Zayn the morning of their show in New Orleans, Liam felt laid bare in front of his tour manager.

Zayn was shirtless, too, but both boys had put on joggers and hastily pulled the duvet down over the bed; they were sitting next to each other, hands folded in their laps. They looked, Liam thought, like small children about to receive their punishment. To add to the illusion, Paul had pulled over a chair from the desk in their room and was sitting on it, facing the boys, hands on his knees, slightly hunched over. He looked very, very tired.

“So,” Paul began, trying to maintain eye contact with both boys. 

Liam, feeling petty, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of polite eye contact, and stared down at the grey carpet as if he had never seen anything so fascinating. He dug his bare toes into the thick carpet, even though normally he made a rule to always wear socks in hotels. No matter how fancy the hotel and how well it was cleaned, the idea of putting his bare feet where others had stepped grossed him out.

He sneaked a peek at Zayn; he was staring at Paul with his signature bored look on his face, but Liam saw that his lips were pressed so hard together they were turning white.

Liam sighed, and lifted his head up, looking full on at Paul. “Go ahead Paul,” he said, and then gave his best sad, puppy face. Liam knew when to pull out that face, and he had no problem using it to his advantage in a situation such as this.

Paul did not beat around the bush, Liam was thankful for that. “Ok, so last night one of our security followed you back to the hotel, and saw you kissing on the street -”

“What the fuck- ,” Zayn interrupted, as Liam said, “Who the fuck -”

“Ok, ok,” Paul held up his hands hands in supplication. “It was Andy from security. And he did tell the rest of security. And somebody, we don’t know if it was Andy or someone else, did tell management.”

“Management,” Liam practically growled out. “And they decided?” Liam knew how quickly Management moved when they were in damage control mode.

“Management is actually not opposed to the idea, of you two publicly dating,” Paul said, sounding surprised. If he sounded surprised, Liam could only imagine how his own face looked; he felt like he literally needed to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“But, then how come Harry and Louis have to be a secret?” Liam demanded, not caring that he brought up the taboo topic in front of Zayn. 

Zayn wasn’t dumb, after all, and had been with the boys on their bus enough times to figure it out. 

Paul flinched and closed his eyes. Liam knew that Paul didn’t care, and he supported Louis and Harry - he was just following Management’s orders, but the fact that Liam and Zayn were so new they weren’t even in a relationship yet, and Harry and Louis had been together for literally years and had to stay hidden, made Liam feel a torrential swirl of anger and anguish. How was that fair?

“How is that fair?” Liam said, since Paul remained silent.

“They think it would be good publicity for the tour. They think the public would be willing to accept a band member that’s gay now, the band has been around long enough and is established enough” said Paul. “Or, bisexual."

"What about pansexual?" Zayn said, a note of hostility in his voice.

"Sure, that too, that too." Paul looked sheepish. 

Liam didn’t care.

“A band member? As in ONE band member” Liam said bitterly. “So only one of the four of us gets to come out, and it’s me? What a load of shite.”

Liam turned to Zayn. He didn’t look angry or bored anymore, he just looked sad. 

“What did my team say?” Zayn said.

“Everyone is on board for both of you dating. They would do the usual: get you photographed going to a dinner or something together, just the two of you. Then photographs of you shopping or the like, together, and then finally a photograph of you holding hands or kissing. This would be over the course of the tour, spread out over a month or two. And then there would be an interview where you would acknowledge your relationship together, for maximum effect.”

Paul said all this matter of factly, as if he had said it many times before. He knew the drill, Liam thought, still bitter. He knew this wasn’t Paul’s fault, it was simply standard operating procedure for Management. But Paul was the messenger, delivering the message from Management that sat on high, making decisions that affected everybody’s daily life. And yet, it didn’t affect them at all, Liam thought, other than the bottom line of course.

Then there was the other matter. “Um, Paul. We aren’t exactly dating yet. Or, I mean,” Liam studiously avoided looking at Zayn. “I mean, it’s not like we’re together officially or anything. So what happens if we don’t want to go public? What if we want to keep it all under wraps?”

Paul sighed again. Now he suddenly looked like he had aged another ten years, in addition to being very tired. “Then they’ll make you re-sign new contracts with the necessary revisions.”

“Necessary revisions?” Zayn asked.

“It means,” Liam said, “New morality clauses, basically. Or, more restrictions and consequences.”

“Oh,” said Zayn softly.

Liam felt a mixture of white hot rage and sadness. His frustration level was so high he felt tears beginning to form in his eyes. He would not be mortified in front of Paul.

“Paul, we need a minute,” Liam said. 

He tried to pretend his voice wasn’t shaking. He clenched his fists, and then tried to relax by taking a deep breath, but his body felt like it was so tightly strung that any wrong movement would cause him to snap. He hadn’t felt this type of anger in a long, long time. He thought he had gotten that part of himself under control. And if there was one thing Liam hated, it was feeling out of control. Meeting Zayn and getting to know the man behind the image and voice, had also felt like losing control, too, but somehow Liam hadn’t minded that free fall. This, however, the blinding anger, was an old demon he was familiar with, even if it hadn’t reared its head in a long time.

Paul looked at Liam for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Liam, I truly am.”

“Yeah, fine, “ Liam snapped. He had no room to feel anything for anybody right now, except for him and Zayn. And his band mates, he thought bitterly, and how this would affect everybody - a band member couldn’t have a relationship, PR or genuine, without all the boys being affected.

Paul left the room. Not even a couple seconds later, Liam’s hotel landline phone rang.

“What the - “ Liam said, picking up the phone. “Yeah?”

“Liam, mate, we’ve been texting you non-stop. Can we come over?” It was Louis, of course.

“All of you?”

“Yeah, Niall’s been with me and Harry, we’ve been waiting for Paul to leave your room.”

“Now’s not a good time, Lou - “ Liam began.

“Ok, see ya in a minute.” Louis had hung up the phone. 

Liam slammed the phone down and started pacing. The hotel room was big, but not big enough to give him enough room to really pace a good distance.

He felt a hand on his arm. “Hey, Liam, breathe, yeah? Can you do that for me? Take a deep breath for me babe.” Zayn looked at him, eyes large and dark and sad. Liam took a deep breath, but he didn’t feel any better.

The door burst open, and Louis, Harry and Niall tumbled in; the energy in the room changed and Liam took another deep breath. They boys all came and sat down on the bed. Liam and Zayn also sat down and joined them. The bed was crowded, but Liam felt better surrounded by his brothers, even if part of him just wanted to be left alone to rage - the in-control part of his brain knew that tackling the problem together as a band would be the best approach.

“Ok,” Louis said. “Impromptu band meeting. What did Paul say, what is going to happen?”

“How did you - “ Liam began.

Niall waved him off. “We already know everything. We know Andy from security let the cat out of the bag. He’s gone, if you want him to be,” Niall was serious. 

When Niall was serious like this, Liam was vaguely scared. A lot of people underestimated Niall - Liam felt the two of them had that in common. But when Niall wasn’t being the goofy, carefree lad with an endless amount of friends that everybody loved, he got things done - a force to be reckoned with. Liam wouldn’t be surprised if Niall became an executive or a mayor of some town in the future, he really wouldn’t.

“I don’t know about sacking Andy, or anyone. But terms were laid out,” Liam said. He looked at Harry and Louis, and felt a wave of sadness so strong for his friends his stomach hurt. Zayn seemed to sense his mood, and pressed right up against Liam and grabbed his hand. Liam felt encouraged. 

“Management said we could go public with dating. They said it would be good for the publicity of the tour. Apparently having ONE member of the band come out will test well and be good PR.” The bitterness on his tongue was so thick he could taste it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know…” 

Liam trailed off. He didn’t even know what to think.

“Liam,” Harry began softly. “Why are you sorry? This isn’t your fault, yeah?”

“Because. Why am I allowed a measure of freedom when you aren’t? How is that fair to you and Louis?”

“It’s not,” Louis said simply. “But like Harry said, this isn’t your fault. You aren’t the one making the decisions. You can only work with the choices you’re given.”

“Well the choices suck! They fucking suck,” Liam said, almost sobbing on the last word. Zayn let go of his hand, and put his arm around him. Liam focused on his breathing, Zayn’s arm pulled him back down to earth.

“And besides, you being allowed to be open, is a good thing for the rest of us. Maybe not our situation right now, but long term,” said Louis. Liam looked at his friend. He loved Louis so much. He loved all the boys so much. He just wanted them to be happy. 

“But you shouldn’t have to wait even more years to be happy!” Liam protested.

“Liam, we ARE happy,” Harry said slowly, as always. “Is the situation ideal? No, of course not. But our relationship already gets so much attention. If we came out, it would probably break us, let’s be honest. We would never get a moment of peace. But, I agree with Louis - you being allowed to be open would be good for the long run.”

“But that means -” Liam began.

“And, yes, we know what you’re thinking,” Louis cut him off. “You dating a man publicly will just increase people watching us even closer. We already discussed it, and we’re fine with it. We’ve been careful for years. Being extra careful for a bit won’t kill us.”

“And that’s OUR choice Liam. But this is about what you want,” Harry said.

“And Zayn,” Niall piped up. “What do you want Zayn?”

Liam felt, if possible, worse. Here was Zayn, his career just starting out, everything an open road in front of him. And his new choice was between having his silence bought by signing on the dotted line, or being thrust into the public eye long before he was truly ready. 

“Boys, can you give us a minute?” Liam said, turning to Zayn, who sat silently beside him.

“Of course,” Niall said.

“We’ll be in our room, we have a bunch of pizzas on the way, so come join us when you’re done, yeah?” Louis said. And the boys took their leave, Harry clapping Liam firmly on the shoulder and parting with,

“We want you boys happy. Whatever you decide we’ll go along with.”

Liam felt like tears were imminent. He felt sadness, gratitude, but most of all he felt overwhelmed by the pressure of the choice he would have to make.

When the door shut, he looked at Zayn. Liam’s chest felt so tight, his throat felt like it was squeezing around his words. He felt short of breath. 

“Zayn, I’m so sorry. We’re not even dating, we’re not even in a relationship, and you are our opener, and this is your first tour, and you have to make a decision now, and it’s not fair to anybody, but you have the most to lose - “

“Liam, stop you’re going to have a panic attack, babe, remember what I said about breathing, yeah?” Zayn scooted back on the bed, giving Liam some space. He let go of his shoulder. 

“Here, try this,” Zayn said, dark eyes focused on Liam, deadly serious, but full of concern. “Use each of your senses. Focus on what you can hear, yeah. Then focus on what you can see. Then touch. Then smell. Then taste.”

Liam tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt, and his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He tried again. “Ok, I can hear music from outside. It sounds like a brass band.”

“Ok, good job. Deep breath, ok? That's good. What can you see?” Zayn said.

“You. I see you.”

Zayn blushed a bit, smiling for the first time since Paul had knocked on their door. 

“Good, good. Touch? What can you feel?”

Liam put his hands into the duvet. The duvet they had pushed aside last night so they could taste each other for the first time. “The blanket feels soft. Feels good.”

“Ok, Liam good. Keep breathing babe. What can you smell?”

Liam leaned forward, letting go of the blanket long enough to run his hands through Zayn’s hair, and leaning in even further to gently smell the top of his head. “I can smell your shampoo. Citrus. You always smell like citrus.”

“And taste? What do you taste?” Zayn whispered. 

Liam moved down, from the top of Zayn’s head to right in front of his face. He took a deep breath, and leaned forward, giving Zayn a kiss, then gently licking his lips. Zayn parted his mouth automatically, but Liam ended the kiss, and leaned back, taking in another breath. His chest still felt a bit tight, but he no longer felt like his throat was going to close up, or his heart would beat out of his chest.

“I taste your lips. And I taste what we did last night.” Liam said.

Zayn looked down, then looked back up with a giggle. “Then we should brush our teeth right now.” He looked serious again. “I think we should go public.”

Liam was surprised. “Yeah?”

“I want to date you Liam. And I agree with the boys - it will be good for the band long term. And it will be a good thing for the community. But, since Management is using it for publicity, I say we do it on our terms.”

“Yeah, and how do we do that?” Liam wondered.

“We can give them the pictures, and the dinners and the hand holding, but we aren’t going to make a statement, or an interview, until after the tour is over. Or, until after I’m no longer your opener, I mean. So I guess when we’re all finished in North America.”

“You think we’ll still be dating after this leg of the tour?” Liam said hesitantly. “I mean, do you want to date, even?”

“Liam Payne, will you date me?” Zayn demanded an answer. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes. I want to date you.” Liam felt a different kind of fluttering in his stomach now.

“Good, cuz I want to date you. And that’s why we aren’t going to give any statements until after the tour is over. If the tour is over and we’re still dating, then we can make a statement. Until then, no pressure?”

“No pressure?” Liam said incredulously. 

Zayn laughed wryly, and grabbed Liam by the shoulders. “No pressure. Just an internationally famous band member of One Direction willing to risk it it all for a lowly opening act.” 

Liam stared into Zayn’s eyes, wondering when all of his reality and life choices converged into this moment. “Zayn, you have the most to lose, you realize that?”

Zayn shook his head, leaning forward to gently kiss Liam. “No, Leeyum, I really don’t. I have the most to gain, actually.” And with that wildly romantic declaration, Liam felt light as air as he allowed Zayn to kiss him, and then kiss him again.

 

 

A Private Beach in Los Angeles:

 

Liam couldn’t believe the last show of the North American leg of the tour (the Zayn leg, he still referred to it as, privately in his own head) was tonight. A sold out show at the Rose Bowl no less. Liam was his usual pre-show bundle of hyper nerves. But Zayn, holding his hand as they walked along a private stretch of beach, was helping calm Liam down.

Liam had forced a reluctant Zayn to wake up much, much earlier than he normally did in order to watch the sunrise. Zayn was none too thrilled, but Liam promised him a lengthy mid-morning nap before their concert later that night.

Liam knew Zayn was anxious about the size of the crowd - it would be the largest crowd they would perform in front of on this leg. He was trying to take Zayn's mind off it via methods of distraction.

“I bet you can’t wait to see your family,” Liam said, squeezing Zayn’s hand. The sky was turning from a deep blue-purple hue to a lighter grey-blue as the boys walked along the dark water front. 

“Yes, can't wait to see 'em. You do realize we are on the west coast, we’re not going to actually be able to watch the sun rise over the water? ” Zayn mumbled, not fully awake. He clutched a starbucks coffee in the hand not holding Liam’s own hand. Thank goodness for the 24-hour starbucks on their way to the beach. 

“I knew that,” Liam said indignantly. “But I wanted it to be just you and me, no staff, no security.” They had sneaked out of their hotel before anybody was awake. “Since it’s the last show tonight and all.”

Zayn stopped walking, and tugged Liam down into the sand. They both carefully sat down, putting their coffee cups into the malleable sand. The sand was cold and slightly damp. Liam shivered. 

He shivered again a moment later when Zayn gently cupped his cheek and turned Liam toward him.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” Liam felt himself smile.

“For this. The beach. This tour. Making me feel welcome. I’ll never forget this tour. No matter what happens. Never. It changed my life. My career. And I never expected…” Zayn trailed off, looking down, long lashes a smudge on his cheekbones in the cool grey light of pre-dawn. His hand stayed on Liam’s face, however. 

Liam gently gripped Zayn’s chin, and even more gently raised his face up. They were so close that Liam could clearly see Zayn’s eye freckle. Like everything that was a part of Zayn, Liam loved it.

“You never expected what?” Liam asked.

“To fall in love,” Zayn let out a breath on the word love. 

Liam let out a breath of his own. 

“I love you Zayn. I love you so much. And I’ll never forget this tour either.” 

Zayn leaned forward the rest of the way. Liam closed his eyes as Zayn's face became blurry. He felt cool lips on his own. Zayn kissed him hard, and Liam let go of his hand, to brace his hands in the sand. Zayn swung his leg over Liam, sitting himself right in Liam’s lap, then pushed him back into the sand. For a second, Liam was annoyed the sand was now in his hair, then he thought about all the other places sand could get into, and he giggled.

Zayn pulled back from the kiss, an indignant look on his face. 

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“Just thinking about sand,” Liam laughed. 

“Sand? Sand? We confess our burning love for each other and you have sand on your fucking mind?” Zayn said, eyebrow raised to its fullest extent. Liam laughed harder, and rolled them over, so Zayn was against the ground and Liam was on top. 

“Leeyum, you knocked over my coffee!” Zayn yelped. “And now my hair is full of sand!”

Liam couldn’t stop giggling. He wasn’t sure why everything was so funny - he had never felt so light and carefree. Zayn said I love you, and Liam loved him back. Against all odds, everything in the universe had aligned to make this moment happen. 

He looked down; somehow (on Liam’s private scale of Zayn Cuteness) Zayn outraged about his hair was second only to Zayn being really excited about something.

“We can stop on the way back to the hotel and get you another Starbucks,” Liam said reasonably. “And I have sand in my hair, so now we’re even!”

“Leeyum,” Zayn whined, “You know I hate getting sand in my hair. And my hair is thicker than yours! It will take forever to get out -”

“You’re a vain thing, you know that,” Liam laughed, then bent down and kissed Zayn hard, cutting off his protests. Liam pulled back. “But you’re also the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, so I’ll allow it.”

“Shut up,” Zayn whispered, then pulled Liam back down. 

Liam’s lips felt tender, but his heart felt even more tender. And, Liam thought giddily, he didn’t give a fuck how cheesy that was. He was too happy to worry about how anything sounded in his head. He lost himself in Zayn’s lips, and didn’t care that they were missing the sky change to lightest blue. He didn’t need to have his eyes open to know it was the beginning of a beautiful day. 

 

Rio de Janeiro:

 

The day before One Direction performed at Maracana stadium in Rio de Janeiro, Liam found himself at a tattoo shop with Louis.

Liam wasn’t like Louis and Harry, or Zayn - the boys could spontaneously decide to get a tattoo on a random Tuesday and then go get it. Liam was a planner. He thought long and hard about his tattoos, but on this one he didn’t feel any hesitation - the moment he decided on the quote he wanted, he knew he had to get it.

Finally finished, he held up his arm to Louis, who had been sitting in a chair, absently scrolling through his phone while he waited for his turn. Liam wasn’t even sure what Louis was getting, some type of nautical something, typical Louis.

“Nice, the script looks good,” Louis said, standing up and stretching. Liam walked over to the nearest mirror and held up his forearm. It was backwards in the mirror but Liam knew the words by heart:

"Everything I needed but nothing I’ll ever want."

Liam smiled, feeling the sentiment in his bones. His family, his band mates, music, and hopefully - although it was still so new - Zayn, was all he needed. Everything else was just extra. The fame and the fortune was simply window-dressing. Liam would be forever grateful for his fans, for the awesome opportunities, but they weren’t what he needed to breathe.

 

The next night, One Direction was on stage, and Liam danced happily in the midst of the usual on-stage chaos. The stadium was beautiful - nothing but lights and signs and flags as far as the eye could see. The amount of rainbow flags had increased gradually throughout the North American tour - it seemed that after every carefully orchestrated picture of Liam and Zayn had been released, the next show would have more rainbow flags. 

Liam knew all the boys loved it - they wanted nothing more than a safe space for all their fans to feel welcome and included, and looking around the stadium, Liam knew the world was a big place with an exhausting list of seemingly impossible problems, and yet - and yet - if for just one night anyone from any background could come and feel welcome and rock out to some good music, Liam felt like the world could shrink, just that little bit, and the problems, while they didn’t go away, somehow didn’t feel as insurmountable. 

Liam knew there was only one more song left, before their usual closer of Best Song Ever. This was the moment Liam had been looking forward to all night. He knew he was driving the other boys crazy with how hyper and bouncy he had been, but he couldn’t help his elation. 

The others seemed to understand. Niall had simply give him a friendly slap every time Liam raced by; every time Liam threw water on Louis, the other boy had simply rolled his eyes and returned the attack; even Harry, usually less tolerant of Liam’s stage antics, had simply smiled benignly and given Liam room to run around.

It was time - Play it Again, the band’s biggest new hit throughout the tour, came to a close, and then the lights went down, and the backing band went silent. The crowd cheered, but seemed confused. This was normally the time where the boys thanked the crowd for the amazing night, before launching into Best Song Ever. But tonight they were in for something special, and Liam felt fit to burst. 

Suddenly, a spotlight came on. All four boys were standing in a semi-circle at the front of the stage. Liam spoke into his mic, the crowd oddly hushed, expectant and waiting.

“And now, everyone, we have a special guest. A return guest if you will. A man very near and dear to my own heart -”

Liam was cut off by the roar of cheering from the crowd. He turned to Louis, who was next to him, and grinned. Louis grinned back. Harry, on the other side, gave Liam a thumbs, up, and Niall, on the far side grinned at Liam and then hoisted his guitar up, ready for the signal to play.

“Everybody, welcome back ZAYN,” Liam spoke loudly into the mic so he could be heard over the crowd. 

The crowd simply increased in volume, and Liam was thankful for his “inner ears” - the decibel level of over 80,000 people screaming could not be healthy for their ears. He also had never felt more proud as he watched Zayn, hair long enough now that he wore it in a top knot, and wearing his trademark skinny jeans and leather jacket, walk out from stage left, looking nervous but determined. And Liam loved that he could read Zayn this well now - knew the man’s moods and facial expressions, and his likes and dislikes. Liam thought about how far Zayn had come since that first time he saw him perform live on stage in Chicago, and the increase in confidence was everything. Zayn had always had the talent, of that Liam could proudly say he knew from the beginning - but now he had the confidence to back it up. He was both dangerous and unstoppable, Liam thought fondly.

The man in question came over, each boy giving him a hug in turn, and then Zayn came and stood right next to Liam, leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips and a firm arm squeeze. Liam kissed him back, and felt breathless, like he always did when they kissed.The stadium roared in approval, and Liam was genuinely concerned for all their hearing. Zayn gave him a cheeky smile, then turned to the crowd; it was his turn to speak.

“Thank you Rio de Janeiro! Thank you for the warm welcome. This is my first time in your city, and your beautiful country, and I can’t believe I’m here tonight, with One Direction. The song we’re going to sing now is one of my personal favorites, so thanks to the band for indulging me. And I know Leeyum here, he loves this song too,” Zayn winked at Liam, then turned to Niall and nodded. Niall strummed the opening chords, and then the boys began to sing together, harmonizing the lyrics into the warm air, nothing but Niall’s gentle notes backing up their voices. 

“Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song”

When it came to the lyrics, “Telling my whole life with his word,” Liam looked at Zayn, and lifted his arm up. Zayn looked confused, and then he saw Liam’s new tattoo. Zayn had flown in earlier that afternoon, and hadn’t seen Liam until right before the show, where they’d barely had a moment to embrace until Liam was shuffled off to warm up. He had also worn a long sleeve flannel, hiding his tattoo until right before he went onstage. 

Zayn leaned forward and read the words, then read them again. He looked up at Liam, and Liam mouthed “YOU” to Zayn. He wasn’t sure if Zayn understood, until Zayn stopped singing, and leaned forward to give Liam a quick kiss, before he leaned back and contined singing, his eyes crinkled furiously as he tried to hide his smile. Liam kept singing, not breaking eye contact with Zayn until the song was over. As the boys took their bow to the roar of the crowd, Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand. Liam looked out over the stadium, then at his bandmates, then finally, Zayn. Liam took a deep breath - here was everything he could ever need, and nothing he could ever want for.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


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